To the Looking Glass World
by Seraphim-Burning
Summary: ON HIATUS Part Two of One and Two and Through and Through:
1. The First one

**A**/N: So I'm finally posting this, sorry for those who were waiting. For everyone else this is part two to my first fic "One and Two and Through and Through" it's probably better that you read the first fic first to understand what's happening in the second one. This one looks to be shaping up to be a lot longer then the first so it's going to be a long haul. Anyway, on with the show.

Reviews are much appreciated.

Summary: Alice's son Charlie is alive one more but the business is Stayne had brought on a whole new set of problems. The Gryphon has lost his abilities to shapeshift and is awaiting trail for interfering with mortal affairs and gifting life and his powers to the young boy. Alice is struggling with her new abilities and is finding it near impossible to negotiate being the new Dark Lord of Underland while trying to be a mother and lover. Tarrant is at a loss at how to deal with his son and Alice. While the two Queens are simply trying to negotiate their own relationship and the continued existence of all Underland people while it's high lords war with one another for sadly, Time has returned with a vengeance.

To the Looking Glass World

The First One

The Castle of Marmoreal had been previously been known for it's unassailable beauty and almost ethereal appearance; in truth it still was. The torrents had not changed a great deal over the last few years and they still shone brightly in the sunlight; their chess like visages reflected upon the checkerboard landscape with an aire of authority unmatched in Underland. The gardens were as lovely as they had ever been, dotted with cherry, apple, oak, maple and birch and the trees always happy, secure and friendly. Even the people of Marmoreal were a very pleasant bunch; civil, polite and dressed to the nines, always ready with a kind word, a charming smile and an understanding ear. The members of the White Queen's court were moreso. As per Queen Mirana's request they were temperate, delicate and always congenial. In short they were the perfect companions for a woman who was renown for her beauty, majesty and kindness. All in all not much had changed in the kingdom of Marmoreal in terms of its appearance and how it was run. Even a war could not create negativity and resentment in its serene borders.

However, as of late, the nature of Underland itself seemed to be changing and while Marmoreal had always been a central point of interest for all the residents it was now the sole place of interest. Subjects of Underland, large and small, stalked to Marmoreal (going as far as to camp upon it's grasses and sleep in its serene woods) just to witness the strange events that were occurring there. At that very moment the capital city and seat of the only monarchy left in Underland housed not only the White Queen but three other persons of great interest. The First was the Red Queen, Iracebeth of Crims (recuperating from her exile and physical traumas in the safety of her sister's berth) the second was the White Lord Gryphon (a creature who had once been set and stone in the form of a Griffen now walked the grounds as a man) and the third was perhaps the most infamous, the once Champion Alice Kingsliegh, much changed since her last ordeal in Underland.

All these personas and more made for an intriguing drama the likes of which the people of Underland had not seen in a great long while. Even moreso their combined presences made for a hectic brunch.

"Tea?"

The proffered pot was paused for only a moment as scone came flying towards her head at an unbelievable speed but the recovery seemed to be just as speedy and the pastry attack forgotten as quickly as it was launched. In fact, the Hatter seemed totally unfazed by the projectile, dropping gracefully at the knees and gently but firmly pressing Alice's head down as well so as to avoid impact and a rather sticky situation. The pastry hit the far wall with a low thud, dropping to the floor and rolling a few inches before coming to a full stop nearly five feet from the table. She sighed, shaking her head at the March Hare and Dormouse who seemed rather over eager in their serving duties. A rather common situation which caused Alice to idly wonder why on earth Mirana would place those two in charge after the last three tea parties they had been forced to sit through when their idea of proper manners was to blitzkrieg the guests with airborne baked goods. She took a moment to give them a sharp look and cocked her head to the side to indicate the rapt attention the young boy to her left was paying them both before she turned her eyes back to Tarrant.

"Please, some tea would be lovely." she smiled encouragingly.

His grin was enough to warm her as the sweetness of her words seeped into his brilliant green eyes. He nodded softly as he gently poured the amber coloured liquid into her delicate black china cup before he turned his attention to the boy at her side. Her own attention was drawn to the potential interaction and she brought the tea cup to her lips while still keep a closer watch on the pair. She observed carefully as Tarrant stepped around the back of her chair to position himself between them in as friendly a manner as he could muster. Alice felt her own sense of nervousness rise as she watched her son lower his small sketchbook from the table to his lap, looking at his unacknowledged father with two very critical golden eyes.

She bit her lip, waiting to see Charlie's reaction. Her son could be a hard nut to crack. He was sweet and loving with those he chose to favour but to others (those he decided he disliked) he could be indecipherable. A thick skin was already set in place after years of harsh treatment and misunderstanding at the hands of those who feared his differences and it was certainly in place now as he watched Tarrant. She swallowed the sense of guilt that settled into the pit of her stomach. The recent events with Stayne had only served to reinforce his distrust of those he did not know personally and it seemed her boy felt very disinclined to know the Mad Hatter in any way. Tarrant, for his part in this new little ritual, looked as hopeful as their son did indifferent. He held the teapot to his chest as a shield, his face radiating a sort of desperate friendliness that set even Alice's own teeth on edge. His eyes wide with hope and more then a bit of longing as he looked at their son.

It was so odd that despite their matching hair and eerily similar faces the two were completely opposite when the notion of speaking to one another arose. Then again she could hardly blame them. So much had changed and so quickly that they all seemed to be struggling to catch up. No one under the palace roof had the luxury of peace at the moment and the entire group assembled was in a constant state of flux; repairing old unacknowledged relationships was not a priority when confronted with the new and immediate dangers they were in. Living in Marmoreal had provided her with a fine opportunity to allow Charlie to acclimatize himself to the Hatter and Underland as well as his new abilities and life. Sadly, all those things were going less successfully then she would have liked.

Her eyes gazed around the table, taking a moment to acknowledge everyone present and note their moods. The table had been rather tense as of late, with all the new arrivals to Marmoreal coming and going, not the least of which were Alice herself and Charlie. Near the head of the table, just to the right of her sister, the Red Queen sat in a wicker wheelchair sipping on her tea. Her appearance was merely a shadow of the proud monarch she had once been. She still looked weak and fragile even months after the incident, a testament to the sheer brutality of the near death experience she had endured at the hands of Illosovic Stayne. Her clothing was new and lovely (a gift from the Hatter when he learned of her role in saving their son) and her head appeared to be just a little bit smaller then Alice remembered it being, it would make sense considering she had fallen off an exceptionally high horse as of late. Yet, she was still very, very weak and technically still exiled to the Outlands. Alice did note that the first seven years of exile seemed to have done her some good and her personality was much changed for the better. In all their time together Alice had never seen her once revert to violence, in fact she seemed more matronly and was exceptionally good with Charlie. In Alice's mind she owed her once enemy a debt of gratitude for the roles she played in keeping her son safe. She knew that many of Iracebeth's trials at the hands of Stayne were a direct result of her refusal to allow the young boy to come to harm. In Alice's mind any woman who was willing to endure the violation she nearly endure at the hand's of Lowell Manchester was worthy of her loyalty and respect.

"Mummy?" a small voice drew her attention from the conversing Queens.

Alice turned her head to see that Tarrant had not moved at all, to offer tea, or pour or anything of the like. Instead he was just sitting there smiling at Charlie. It made Alice want to scream in frustration. Her son looked rather uncomfortable and kept his gaze tightly locked on the Hatter as he edged closer to her and managed to get onto her lap.

"Yes love," she answered softly, easing his body up and noting that soon he would be far too big to sit on her lap.

"May I go see Miss Iracebeth now?" he asked her, his eyes suspicious and never leaving the Hatter's face, as if he were scared the latter would soon attack.

Realizing that it would be much better for Tarrant to concede defeat she nodded her head at the boy's request.

"Of course but remember Miss Iracebeth is still healing and if she and her sister are having a private talk you must come right back to me, is that understood?" Alice smiled, turning her son's face to look into her own while running her free hand through his riotous red curls.

"Yes," he grinned happily.

In a flash he had jumped off her lap and was hurtling towards the front of the table. She watched with a pleasure as both Queens saw him coming and opened their arms wide with excitement for him. He hovered at the Red Queen's feet, motioning something with his hands before she called to the card shaped attendant who wheeled her around and had him hoist Charlie into her lap. While there he began explaining something with his hands, drawing both of the women into his web as he giggled and smiled and shone with all the joy a seven year old who was well loved should have. Alice felt her own pang of sadness rise at the sight, she had never been able to truly give him that. Not alone in the Aboveworld anyway. There Charlie had been ostracized, rejected and treated as a pariah and she had allowed it. She had done what she could to make him feel at home and welcomed in the land of his birth but in the end it had amounted to nothing and he had been willing to go into Underland with a man who claimed to be his father merely because it seemed to him no one else really wanted him.

"Alice?"

This was Tarrant and she felt his hand snake into hers as he took Charlie's vacated seat next to her, she turned to him, dashing the tears in her eyes with a smile. His own face was a mask of concern and as he came closer she took his face between her hands and ran her fingers along his brow, smoothing out the worry lines. For his part he closed his eyes at her touch, leaning into her palm and placing a kiss at her wrist. It was rare that they were able to have moments like this and she felt a little odd doing it at the White Queen's long white table however it didn't take long before someone to notice them. She reacted to the cup flying at her head instantly, unable to duck in time she turned to face the thing head one and was shocked when it exploded in the air, shattering into dust and then flying out as if it had been torn apart from inside.

She could only stare, her eyes narrowing at the action. Then, without warning, Alice shoved herself free of her chair, moving swiftly she ran from the table, her eyes weeping and her heart a mess of confusing emotions.

She stormed over the white tiles, noting that her feet seemed to be leaving black footprints again. The observation did nothing but further incite her frustration and her fast pace morphed into a light jog and then a full out run. She followed the calling, letting her feet guide her forward, through the twisting hallways and then out into the cherry blossom gardens. She moved between the trees surely, a complete contrast to the beauty and serenity of the place. She spotted him sitting upon a short plinth, his one leg crossed over his knee, his ankle resting upon the edge of his leg. His long white hair hung down to his waist, twisted into an intermingling plait that glittering iridescent in the sunlight. His skin was a tanned hue, once a glowing gold but now more natural. He was looking at his hands with the most intense concentration; his black eyes were fixed, endless in their depth and turned towards her with a wealth of emotion. His arms opened easily for her, catching her and stopping her forward motion in one quick movement. He held her tightly to his chest and Alice felt her own heartbeat slowing, the panic in her body subsiding at his nearness. For his part the Gryphon merely held her, using his own sense of calmness to seep into her body, completely the circle of her frantic emotions and letting them just disappear into the ether.

Since the entire ordeal with Stayne and the return to Underland things had not been going as well as she hoped. Her reunion was bittersweet, tainted with the lies and power they had all been forced to bear yolk under. Being forced to take on the Jabberwocky's power and his responsibility as Lord over the Darkness of Underland had seemed a fair trade for her son's life at the time but in the end it had hurt both her and Gryphon; tying them to one another and forcing them into unwanted symbiosis. Of course it was not as if she didn't like Gryphon but the dependence she felt she had on him due to her own inability to control her feelings and her new found powers, was more then damaging to her sense of self then even forced engagement to Hamish had been. Throughout her entire adult life she had been totally independent of others. It had been a long hard fight but in the end she had established herself as a successful businesswoman and single mother in her own right with no need for others to define her life. Now it seemed that everything she was relied on others, Tarrant, Gryphon, Charlie even Mirana. Her existence was dependent on the presence of those beings around her who had taken her in and were teaching her the rules of a world she should have commanded. And of all those Charlie was the only person she was comfortable with relying on.

She looked up at the Gryphon as guilt washed over her again. Simply put her son was the reason for his predicament. She had made him promise that he would save her son in exchange for her taking up his twin's lost power and retorting the balance to Underland. This meant that when Stayne had dashed the boy on the rocks in the Outland Mountains the Gryphon as honour bound to grant her boy his life back. She was grateful for Charlie but in the end she still felt the guilt at his sacrifice; in returning her son's life he had broken his oath of non-interference with mortal affairs and as punishment for the violation he was now bound in a human form. She could not imagine how horrible it must be for him. A creature who had been little less then a god was now a mortal man, still able to control some aspects of his old self but, for the most part, trapped in his own skin. However, her own guilt aside the simple matter was that still she needed him as intently as he seemed to need her. Her own part in his punishment did not seem to enter his mind as he held her tightly and calmed her. His own powers (such as they now were) still enough to overcome her fledging ones, after all the one thing he still did have in abundance was the ability to control himself. And her.

"What happened?" he asked after a moment, gently pulling her back and looking at her with sweetness in his eyes.

She smiled sheepishly. Others complained he was arrogant, selfishness and self absorbed. She had never seen it. He had been nothing but kind and supportive to both herself and Charlie since he had come to stay in Marmoreal and over the last few weeks was helping her to learn her abilities and gain some control over them, lest she become another Stayne.

"I was with taking brunch with the Queen and our friends," she replied gently, looking into his face, "The March Hare threw a teacup at me. It exploded before it hit me. When I say that I mean it disintegrated, into nothing more then dust swirling about and I found myself thinking, I could do that to a person if I wasn't careful. I could to that to Charlie, or to Tarrant..." she let the thought drift, she could feel her own eyes blackening with the painful thoughts before his hands cupped her face the way she had cupped the Hatter's not long ago, "I just can't do this Gryphon, it's too much... I just can't..."

"Come now," he stated gently, "Calm yourself, close your eyes and take a deep breath."

She obeyed, breathing in and out as he had taught her. She took two breaths, then three and by the fourth she could hear her pounding heart fade in her ears. The sound of the breeze, the small cry of birds flitting through the air. All things soft and good. She opened her eyes, looking at him with a confident smile.

"There's my girl," he stated happily, letting his hands drop, "Now you must remember that in those situations you must remain in control. Our emotions are powerful, contagious and elusive. They come and go like quicksilver and it is important to maintain them. Your mind and body are adjusting, changing to their new circumstances, your emotions are growing more powerful as well, soon you will be able to project them out with mere thought rather then touch. This is why control is most essential."

She nodded, lowering her head, "I just wish it was easier. Every time I see Charlie I feel as though I have failed him. Every time I hold Tarrant I feel as if he does not trust me."

The Gryphon shook his head, jumping off the plinth to stand next to her. His eyes sought hers out and he let his hand stroke her hair affectionately before taking her arm and walking her through the grove back towards the castle. His own appearance was her polar contrast, her black slip dress focusing on his long white linen pants. He moved with an angelic grace, as smoothly as if his bare feet were not touching the ground.

"Your focus is the negative emotions you feel and others feel towards you." he stated almost conversationally, "If Tarrant feels even the slightest sense of betrayal you will sense it a thousand times stronger then it actually is. If you feel guilty about your son then it will amplify within you, folding over itself and building up higher and higher. Touch makes it easier to transmit those feelings so when you touch those you care for you feel an amplified negative version of what they are really feeling. What you must remember is that it is in your own mind. My brother, the Jabberwocky allowed himself to be poisoned with such thoughts and look where he ended up, at the end of my blade."

Alice nodded, discretely looking to see if his human form was missing a fingernail the way his Gryphon form was missing a talon. She noted that indeed he was, a constant reminder that the vorpal blade had once been a part of this creature.

"I know." she answered, "I simply wish it was easier. That I could go back to the way I was before."

"You are much greater then the woman you were before," Gryphon answered easily, "Those days are gone and you should not mourn them. I do not think I will ever understand your desire to be so close to these creatures. To love them and have them love you. It seems so tedious."

She took no offence at the statement since he meant it in earnest. He had no idea why she did the things she did. He had no concept of love or intimacy or even emotions, in fact the only person he seemed to be able to connect with on any level was herself and maybe Charlie. The boy did appeal to him and Alice surmised that it was because, developmentally, they were at the same stage. Charlie was a boy, learning how to interact with those around him and Gryphon was doing the same since he had never had to interact before. She couldn't imagine how lonely his existence had been. Deciding it was best not to be drawn into this particular argument she allowed herself to be led towards the castle where she was certain her son was already looking for her.

* * *

Tarrant was sure it was supposed to be easier then this. When he had learned he had a son he assumed winning Alice over would be the only problem to solve in the puzzle of assembling a family, he had never imagined that the child would be wary of him. But no, it seemed that Charlie was a great deal more like this mother then previously advertised and the Hatter himself was struggling with the implications of that reality. Not that Charlie was not a wonderful child; no he appeared to be the perfect little boy. Everyone in Marmoreal seemed to be hopelessly in love with him and Tarrant could admit that he himself was no exception. Through his daily observations of the child he had regarded how magical the boy seemed in the most ordinary of ways.

His own strange features had been merged with Alice's to create a rather handsome little creature who was full of wonder, affection and adventure. He grinned to think of Charlie, the boy's face so like a young Alice's but with the Hightopp colouring and wonder. He had to admit, it was a bit of a shock and at the same time an immense sense of relief seeing those curls and that hair and those eyes for the first time. So like his nephews, his sisters' sons that it made him grin like a fool every time he tried to speak to the boy. The boy's personality was also a wonder, he was full of muchness and enchanted by everything he saw. Just not for his father. He would never blame the boy for the problems, oh no, it was not the boy's fault at all. Charlie was just a child and he acted like a child with just as much innocence and caution. He couldn't even blame Alice, although he felt there was a whole new set of problems to be dealt with there. The day she had come to his workroom and thrown her arms around his neck, pressing a perfect kiss to his lips, that might have been one of the happiest days he could recall. Everything after that, well it was a long ride.

He reached out for another block.

Making hats seemed to make things marginally better. He could work with hats. He could appreciate hats. He could understand hats. He could not understand Alice. He could not understand Charlie.

He had always felt himself something of an Alice expert, a master in most things having do with Alice, however he was learning things had very much changed since they had had their time together in this very palace. In this very room. The Alice of his dreams had gone and in her place had left behind a different kind of Alice. Just as exciting and lovely and caring but also a mother and a Queen (even if she would not admit to it) This new Alice could not just traipse with him through Queast in search of a certain sort of flower that might fit nicely in a hat he was making or decide to hold a tea party that would last for days on end. No, this Alice worried about other things. About bedtimes and lessons and whether or not people had finished their dinners. This Alice gave baths and read nighttime stories and chased away nightmares. This Alice's muchness was very much in tact but it seemed to be disposed elsewhere. He wondered if things would have been different if he had been there when Charlie was born. Maybe then he would know what to say to the boy and how to understand Alice as a mother, but since he hadn't been it was hard trying to talk to the person who had replaced you as the first person in your beloved's heart, even if it was his own son.

He spread out the cloth, holding it to the light to get a better look before throwing it to the ground angrily when he realized it was the colour he deemed to be _Alice blue_.

He had seen her in the gardens after their breakfast. He had seen her and the Gryphon speaking to one another. He had seen the stupid Gryphon hugging her as she wept in fear, the golden man dispelling her terror in a way he knew he couldn't. He tried to hold back the anger but it was near impossible. Seeing her vulnerable and knowing she had gone to someone else, someone not him, it made him want to scream in outrage.

She had told him that Gryphon was the only one able to temper the moods running through her and when he had seen the cup shatter he had been shaken himself. The power she must have at her disposal, it boggled the mind (he was usually an excellent source of information about mind boggling) and he knew he couldn't understand it. The things he couldn't understand as of late were numbering in the thousands.

He shook his head, picking up the bolt and dropping it upon his worktable. He would not give up. He was certain of that. He had not given up on the White Queen or defeating the read, laying down and dying was just not something he knew how to do. Charlie might be rather unwelcoming now but Tarrant was sure as time passed he would becoming more affectionate to his paternal advances. He heard the telltale sounds of someone entering his workroom and he steeled himself for a new day. He was, after all, still a Hatter and still very, very good at his trade. Customers needed to be tended, hats needed to be made and gaining his families love and trust but be easier the leading an upraising against a homicidal matriarch.

"Hatter?,"

He whirled around on his heels to answer a call, a huge false smile on his face.

It faltered.

* * *

"Are you feeling better?" Charlie asked, looking up from his book to Miss Iracebeth, sitting in her ochre coloured chair.

Since they had come to live in the white palace Miss Iracebeth had been very, very quiet. He still wasn't sure what had happened after Mr. Stayne had dropped him but he was certain it was bad and she did not wish to speak about it. He remembered seeing his mother calling for him and then just darkness. It had felt like he had fallen asleep without ever trying to. When he had woken up from his dream the pretty lady dressed in white had been standing over him, eager to find out where he was hurt. He didn't really care. His mother was in this new place and Mr. Stayne was not. Miss Iracebeth had told him to start calling her Aunt Racie and he had made a new friend named Gryphon. That was all the important stuff. Everything else he felt he could forget about or ignore. Ignoring everything made it easier to forget.

"Yes much," Miss Iracebeth replied easily, as he motioned for her card attendant to wheel her closer to the bed where he was sprawled out, "And you? Tell me boy, what have you been doing with yourself?"

Charlie placed the pen upon the paper, stopping its movement as he looked at Miss Iracebeth. She had asked him to call her Aunt Racie but it would always be Miss Iracebeth in his head. He liked being around her, no matter what the other people in the castle said. He had heard the people gossiping as they walked together and he could remember what Mr. Stayne had said about Miss Iracebeth killing children. He had heard the courtiers whispering about how she had killed "his father's people" and how it was very bad that she was seen strolling through the halls with him. He had no feelings about it either way. His father was a scary man who stared at him for a long time and said the oddest things. He wasn't sure how to feel about that man specifically, not to mention fathers in general. Mr. Hamish and Mr. Stayne were both bad people and they had wanted to be his fathers, he felt that taking on another one was just asking for trouble. And he was certain there was no need to go out and find trouble, it seemed to find him well enough on it's own.

"I draw a lot. Miss Mirana teaches me magics and alchemy, Gryphon teaches me about Underland and Mummy teaches me about history and language and maths. All the boring stuff. And I sit with you and we have tea," Charlie grinned at her.

Miss Iracebeth nodded at this list before a small frown formed on her lips.

"What of your father boy?" she asked seriously, "What is he like to you?"

Charlie looked down, not wanting to meet her dark eyes. Everyone asked that stupid question. Everyone but his mother. He fixed her with a resolute glare and cross his arms as he rolled onto his back.

"I don't have a father." he replied in a voice he had heard his mother use when she was telling him he had to take his bath. It was a serious voice, that voice meant business.

Miss Iracebeth stared at him for another moment, her own expression matching his. She had a very good serious look.

"Now that's just silly. Of course you have a father. You'd have had to." she replied before looking at her nails, as if the entire conversation were a bore to her.

"No," Charlie snapped back as he pulled himself up onto his elbows while trying to look as stern as possible "I never had one when we lived in London!"

"Of course you did. You just didn't know his name." she answered, "Just because you did not know him does not believe he did not exist. His name is Tarrant Hightopp and he is your father, just as surely as Alice Kingsliegh is your mother."

"I hate his name!" was Charlie's reply, rolling to his side s he wouldn't have to look at her before deciding it was much better to jump to his feet. The bed was hard to balance on but he managed.

"Hightopp is a fine name." Miss Iracebeth commented primly, not even looking at him, "The Hightopp clan has always served the royal families of Underland. Tailors, cobblers, seamstresses but mostly Hatters. The leader of the clan is always a Hatter. Tarrant was to be next in line you know. That would make you the heir after him. Not that it matters now, they're all dead you know."

Charlie continued to glare. Miss Iracebeth's blunt way of talking usually upset people but not him. He was used to her statements and tried not to be hurt of surprised by them however when they were about him it was harder. Charlie's mind reeled until he came up with a response that sounded convincing enough in his own head.

"Well, I am horrible at making things like that." he stated authoritatively, "I cannot sew, I do not want to make shoes and I hate wearing hats. So he cannot be my father. Besides, my last name is Kingsleigh. Not Highrock."

"Hightopp," Miss Iracebeth corrected easily, "And I did not say that those were things you must be boy, I said they were things the clan Hightopp usually are. For example I should be a Queen, everyone in my family is royalty, but it turns out I am exceptionally bad at it. I was responsible for killing a lot of people."

Charlie stopped his glare and dropped to his knees. She always looked so sad when they talked about being a Queen. The killing was something he didn't understand, he had never killed anyone. He had been killed before and people whispered about that as if he had some sort of control over it. People were obsessed with killing and dying, more so then they should be in his opinion. Nothing good ever came of killing people.

"Why not ask Gryphon to bring them back?" he asked more gently, reaching out and taking the Red Queen's hand, "He brought me back for my mother and she's not even a Queen. I bet if you asked he would help. He's very, very nice."

She smiled at him, pulling on his hand and he bounded over the bed to crawl onto her lap. She liked it when they sat like this and so did he. His mother was different now, he could feel it in his bones and sometimes it scared him. He didn't know what she could do and Gryphon had told him that his mother was powerful, and that one day he would be powerful as well. Things in his head were already changing and he didn't know how to feel about that added onto all the other things he had experienced since coming here with Mr. Styane. Charlie found that when he felt totally overwhelmed it was better to just crawl into the Queen's lap and hide there. When he was there he could pretend nothing else was happening, that his mother was still looking for him and that they were just sitting together waiting. He liked waiting. Waiting meant that he didn't know the ending of the story and sadly Charlie was discovering he was only too aware of endings. Not all of them were happy ones.

"He gave that gift to you because you are so special," Iracebeth whispered, running her hands through his hair, "He would not give it to anyone else."

"What about the other man?" Charlie asked softly, playing with the small red bobbles on her dress, "He's strong, he might be able to help you when he gets here."

"What other man?" Iracebeth asked.

Charlie opened his mouth to answer but was immediately stopped when the doors burst open and the White Queen moved into the room. Charlie felt his mouth grow dry and he clung a little tighter to Miss Iracebeth. Miss Iracebeth's sister, Miss Mirana was the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. She was nearly as pretty as his mother and she was very, very nice. He liked how she moved as if every movement was a dance. He could watch her all day but he did get nervous when he saw her and sometimes it embarrassed him. After all, he was just a little boy and she was a Queen.

"Charlie, Racie, How wonderful to see you?" she smiled, gliding towards them.

"Mirana," the Red Queen replied with a soft smile, "What bring you here so soon after breakfast?"

The White Queen moved to the bed, settling herself on the edge so she could relax and speak to her sister. Charlie watched as she graced him with her dark smile before grinning at her sister again. He thought the people here smiled all too much and it bothered him. The bullies at school would smile like that just before they hit him. He tensed and stilled himself, listening while pretending to doze.

"Oh don't worry he's worn out," Miss Iracebeth lied smoothly and he had to stop himself from giggling, "Little scamp is practically asleep already. Been out on the lawns again, you do know how quickly children tire."

He snuggled deeper into her lap and tried to make it look like he was napping. Miss Mirana (who had told him before she knew absolutely nothing about children) simply nodded her head and made noises of understanding before she continued to speak to her sister in a low voice.

"I've come to tell you there will be a ball," she announced with barely suppressed glee, "There has been far too many gloomy faces around this palace and we must do something to remedy this problem. "

"A ball?" the red Queen echoed, "Do you think that's the best idea little sister, There is a great deal of upset at this moment. Lady Alice had yet to learn her powers and I do believe she is self -conscious about them. The Lord Gryphon has lost a great many aspects of his abilities and likewise is not certain where his place is."

There was silence for a moment before Miss Mirana spoke again, her voice barely audible, "We must throw the ball. Gryphon has informed me that his actions must be judged and their judge is going to arrive very soon."

"Judged?" Miss Iracebeth gasped incredulously, "By his actions I assume we mean his bringing this young child back to life? And who is to judge him? You? I? Who in all of Underland is fit to judge a god?"  
Mirana was silent but Charlie guess whatever her look was gave Miss Iracebeth her answer because she tensed up. He could feel it in her.

"He is coming then?" she replied to her sister's unspoken statement, "There is no debate then, he is coming?"  
There was silence again and Charlie felt his own heart beat quicken. Whatever was going on was dangerous, he could feel it. After a few more moments Miss Mirana rose to her feet.

"I would suggest you take the boy to the Hatter to be hatted," she stated softly, "Or perhaps the to the tailor before the Hatter. I imagine it might take Tarrant sometime to work his trade on your Charlie here. I will send Alice to the Hatter's to collect the child this afternoon. I will speak to you again at the earliest convenience sister."

As soon as the door closed Charlie gave up the ruse. Eyes shooting open and twisting so he could look at Miss Iracebeth's face. Her features were odd, her eyes were looking at him sadly and her mouth was pulled into a tight line. He felt nervous for her.

"Come on now," she whispered gently, "We must see the tailor and then the Hatter, you must look your best for the ball."

* * *

Well first one up and posted. Sorry for any grammar errors that may arise. It went through it but something always pops up.


	2. The Second one

A/N: Thanks to all those who took the time to review, it is much appreciated. I have quite a few Chapters written so I am going to edit and post as quickly as possible for the next couple of days. As usual, thanks for reading.

* * *

The Second One

Alice felt she might have a heart attack. She had been allowed to forgo the dressmaker; considering she could create her own dressed out of the air visiting someone for such a thing was a folly. And apparently would be expected to for the rest of her time here in Wonderland. It amazed her that in this place of wonder and insanity things like that were adhered to. She could destroy the castle with a thought, shoot lightening from her hands and hold someone in the precipice between life and death as surely as she could hold her son in her arms yet the main concern the Queen had was that she should have a new gown for the upcoming ball. It made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. It seemed as though the only person in the world who could understand just what she was talking about was the only one person who was in a worse position then she was. Gryphon had not left her when they had entered the castle and for the longest time she had wandered the halls with him. Just talking.

He had spoken of what he thought of as his childhood although he had never been a child. At that time his brother, the creature who would become the Jabberwocky, was still able to change his form and still fulfilling his responsibility as a guardian of Wonderland. They had learned together, carving out their roles and as time progressed it became clearer and clearer what they could and could not do. There were no people in that time, flowers and animals but the humanish people that were common now were not present. Gryphon said those came later. Human creatures that popped up in his world as if they had always been there. He smiled when he told her of the first White King and Queen, he had made them (she had gasped at that) He had not made the humans but he had given the rank and made their castle. His brother had made a Red King and Queen to compete with his and they would amuse themselves watching the two factions battle for dominance. Alice found herself horrified at the idea. That the Gryphon and Jabberwocky could be that cruel, of course she amended the thought a few moments later when she contemplated how removed from life the Gryphon seemed, even now.

As they had walked he had let some other key piece of information slip.

"Our brother will be here soon." he stated, his arm holding up hers in a gentlemanly fashion.

Alice had stopped moving, her eyes going wide, "The Jabberwocky?"

He smiled, "No, of course not. He's gone. Our other brother. Time. He should be here any moment, he's notorious for being either too early or too late. He comes at his own pace."

"I suppose he would set the pace," she replied with interest, "Being Time and all."

Gryphon nodded, his eyes staring straight ahead distantly, "He's coming now. Can you feel him Alice? You won't have much warning of things that are happening in Underland other then your feelings."

She shook her head, "I'm afraid I don't feel anything."

Gryphon turned to her instantly, his eyes scanning hers. She looked up at him, shocked to see wisdom in those wide black orbs, the light catching on them and emphasizing their intense depth. She wondered if that's what her eyes looked like when she was overtaken by the dark. Lately she had thought they were lightening in colour but seeing him now she knew she must have been wrong.

"Close your eyes." he commanded, running his hands over her brow and pressing her eyes closed with his thumbs, he kept his hands on the sides of her face, his thumbs moving to her temples, "Now concentrate."

Alice knew she should have felt nervous especially with his hands upon her so, but she didn't. Instead she simply tried to follow his lead. She had found, more often then not, Gryphon was a touching sort of person. Not really aware of the norms of Aboveground London. She liked that. Sometimes.

"Concentrate. Now focus your mind. Search for power sources," he whispered gently, she felt his mouth against her ear as he did and the head of his body as he drew closer, "Everyone in Underland has a core of power. Their life force. Reach out with your heart, feel that life force."

It was an odd sensation. Like being totally relaxed, she was floating on an ocean of sensations.

"I can feel their darkness." she whispered dreamily.

"Good, now expand on that. Some creatures have very little darkness and some have a great deal. It is natural that your mind would seek that out but you must train yourself to see their light as well. Those two things together make up their life force. Once you can sense that you can move onto their energies. Now locate me, I should be easy. I am directly in front of you." he stated warmly.

She let her guard down slightly, sending her own dark well of energy out to tap into those around her. Her mind easily located her own soul but she had problems finding Gryphon, like a bloodhound trying to pick out a scent she felt her energies circling her own position, finding very little.

"I can't find you," she sighed after fifteen minutes, "It's as if you're not here."

He laughed, a bell like sound now that his powers had been taken from him. She opened her eyes slowing to see his bare chest. He was standing so closer there was barely a sliver of light between them; she immediately took a step back. He did not seem to notice her discomfort or the impropriety he was showing. She tried to quell her blush, reminding herself he had no concept of manners, social graces or personal space. He was what he was and what he was definitely was not human.

"Well it has not been so long. Your abilities will grow as you spend more time with them. They are still changing you. Soon you will be capable of form shifting," he smiled a sad smile as he said those words, "When Time comes here he will assist in your education or should it be decided that my punishment is not severe enough, take over your education completely."

Alice was confused at these words, "Not severe enough?"

Gryphon smiled that sad smile again, his hands still upon her face, "Dear Alice. I broke our cardinal law. Neither light nor dark may interfere with mortal affairs. You may not kill people, steal their lives from them and I may not bring them back, despite having that ability. It was my fault your son died and he was not of Underland, not fully anyway, so I may be granted some leniency for that however it will be for Time to decide whether or not we are to be punished."

"We?" Alice gaped.

Gryphon seemed to have already lost interest. He moved away from her gracefully, his feet turning and heading down the hallway they had not turned into. Alice followed closely upon his heels. As a teacher he was wonderful, as a human, not so much. His rudeness was inarguable and his sense of entitlement concretely embedded in whom he was. Even now she padded down the hallways running at tops speed, following his laughing voice. He moved so quickly that she was certain she had lost him until she spotted him standing nearby Mallymkun (actually holding her by her tail) speaking to the small dormouse.

"So there is to be a ball then?" he asked her excitedly, much like a child would.

"Yes," she snapped back, "Now put me DOWN! Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop on two friends having a conversation!"

Alice subtly looked down the hallway, smirking as she saw the small form of a pure white rat standing nearby, his red eyes starting at the Gryphon with a look of pure awe. At her gaze he scurried away down the hall. Alice sighed Mally would be in bad temper if she had seen that. Gryphon for his part, did not seem to be paying attention to Mally's request in the least, rather he was staring at her amusement as she twisting and turned, attempting to stab him. Feeling the need to intervene she reached forward and took Mally from Gryphon's hands, placing the Dormouse upon the floor nearby her waiting partner.

"I am sorry for his rudeness," Alice apologized, "He hasn't been human very long."

"You don't need to be human to get yourself some manners," Mally snapped angrily, "He's hardly anything at all but a bother."

Alice turned to see Gryphon look at her, sadness echoing in his eyes, He was so like a young boy and the mouse's harsh words had cut him. Pursing his lips together he turned down the hallway and strode off without even waiting to see if Alice followed. Watching him she shook her head and sighed, he was having a hard time adjusting. Probably even harder then she was herself, still her responsibility for him was absolute. After all, he had saved her son, given him new life and apparently had done so at an even greater cost then she was aware of. She owed him her concern and guidance at the very least.

"You shouldn't be so harsh with him." Alice sighed, looking at Mally, "He's learning."

"Should learn a little faster if you ask me." the mouse snarked, her eyes casting down the hall for her partner, "He's a Lord after all, silly if you ask me. The Queen's making such a fuss, hosting a ball for him and you when he can hardly behave like an adult and you've got your own problems."

Alice shook her head. Mally never changed.

"Least that boy of yours is something." she continued, "Handsome child if I ever saw one."

Alice smirked, "You only say that because he resembles Tarrant so much."

If possible Mally blushed then fixed Alice with an intense glare, "Speaking of, you'd do well to hold your tongue. The Hatter's had a tough time of it the last few years and you don't want one of your silly comments to go astray and hurt him."

Alice nodded her head as Mally headed in the direction of her long gone companion. She felt it was best to contemplate Mally's meaning rather then her methods, ignoring the mouse's sharp tone in favour of taking her words in. She and Tarrant had been having a hard go of it the last few weeks. Her own powers were so intense and her own situation so new she was terrified of losing control and causing him harm, both mentally and physically. The last time she had touched him had been an intense kiss in his workroom and even then it had been hell trying to keep her mental abilities under her own power, just one slip could plunge him into madness, just one slip and she could absorb all his own madness and poison herself with it. Even with her controlled her powers to the greatest of her ability he had becoming so passionate, so out of control so quickly he had lost himself a great deal faster then he normally did in emotional situations. She couldn't bear to do that to him, not again. Of course she hadn't known how to broach the subject other then telling him they must be careful. She hadn't the courage or the patience to go through the experience; trying to calmly explain to the man she was in love with that touching her might drive him madder then he already was. The opposite was supposed to be true.

She suddenly felt the need to go see Tarrant immediately. She had rushed away from tea so suddenly she could only assume he understood her reasoning. She felt guilty for making him so unsure of himself. She felt her eyes tear up, her heart aching and her threadbare control slipping. It was so hard with emotions that had to deal with Tarrant; she always lost it when it came to him or to Charlie. They were her Achilles heels in these situations and she was only too aware of it. Unable or unwilling to deny the urge she turned corner after corner. She didn't have to know where he was to feel his location. Tarrant's seed of madness as like a homing signal to her and she was aware she could find him anywhere. Moving swiftly through the maze like twists and turns of the White palace. She moved swiftly, faster then she really should have been and as she skidded to a halt she saw him.

He was in his workroom, fiddling with a bolt of cloth. She could see his lips moving, whispering to himself. He was so crazy. She reached up, wiping the impromptu tears from her eyes and trying to quall the growing emotions. It was strange and unsettling that her new abilities made her lust towards her slip into overdrive, there was a part of her that needed his madness, needed to exacerbate it and feel it grow beneath her. She took a deep breath, calming herself a bit before she approached him. She watched him place the bolt upon his worktable, his face troubled and cloudy. Taking a deep breath she readied herself for the confrontation and stepped into the room.

It looked as it always had. Hat blocks strewn about, bolts of clothe here and there in a variety of colours. The wooden table was immense, longer then any table she had ever seen before and impossibly smooth. She knew the texture of it, the smell of it and what it felt like against her bare skin. The lust rose in her viciously and without meaning too she stepped forwards into the room. She watched him deftly. His lean body hidden beneath the layers upon layers of random fabric he favoured. His pin strip pants were a dark blue colour that bordered black; covering his long legs to the white ruffled shirt he wore. His jacket (a teal paisley number) was draped over a nearby chair while his bow remained a mess of mangled colours, the same one he had worn when they had met the second time. His hat had been removed but it sat in a place of honour on the same chair that graced his coat. She watched his hands, deft as they fingered the material, looking for something he had tried to explain to her once long ago but she had never understood. His firm grasp tightened and loosened through scarred fingers. Fingers, she felt, were better employed tracing their way down her naked back then making hats for snobby courtiers.

"Hatter?" her voice called out, darker then it normally would be as she eyes him up and down.

He turned towards her with a large false smile upon his features and then it faltered. His true emotions came through his eyes still the ever-present green but an almost sad expression upon his features. He took a moment then tried to smile again, plastering on a fakeness reserved for the courtiers and clientele. Suddenly she no longer felt lust towards him. Instead she felt sadness, an overwhelming sense of guilt. She backed away slightly, ready to leave all the while muttering apologies.

"No stay," he called, scampering over the discarded pieces of cloth here and there, "Stay, Alice. I worry over you when you are not here, um, that is to say..."

She stopped and simply moved to him. There was plenty of time to talk through their issues later, plenty of time to hash out all the problems that lingered between them. The guilt grew as he neared her, pulling her into a careful and tender embrace, almost as if he were afraid to touch her to forcefully lest she disappear. She let him, feeling the crisp cotton of his shirt and the heat of his skin beneath. She took in a long breath, taking in his scent deeply. He always smelt of orange spice tea, of leather and a little of a scent so uniquely him

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his jacket, "I am sorry for everything."

"It's fine, " He replied gently, running his hands through her hair "Everything is well. Will be well, well, weller then it would be or rather is..."

"Tarrant," she smiled through the tears, ever charmed by his odd manners.  
"Yes, sorry. I'm fine." he replied with tenderness, he moved back a bit, careful not to touch her with his bare skin, "I want to kiss you, if I don't I might go mad."

"You'll surely go mad if you do kiss me," she sighed, shaking her head and looking up at him apologetically, "I am sorry Tarrant, I'm sorry loving me is so difficult,"

"Pouring tea upside down is difficult," he replied with a sort of wide eyes innocence she had come to love, "making all the voices in my head quiet is difficult, but no, loving you is easy."

She smiled at his response, tightening her grip on him and simultaneously reigning in all foreign emotions not totally her own. If she could control it, if only for a few moments, then maybe it would be all right.

"Tarrant, kiss me." she stated.

He pulled back a bit, looking at her through yellowing eyes. She wanted to grin at the natural warning system that he seemed to possess. Idly she wondered if it was a Hightopp trait or something uniquely Tarrant.

"This be a trick of yers lass?" he asked, his accent hitting hard against his skepticism, "Playing with a man such is rather naughty."

"No tricks, no jokes," she assured him, her fingers rose up to ghost around his jaw "Please, just kiss me."

She watched his eyes switch again and again, green to orange and back again, as if he were not sure who should be doing it and eventually they settled somewhere in between. First, he placed his hands on either side of her face, cupping her cheeks gently. She steeled herself, sending the madness there, lashing just beneath his calm. She kept up her guard, a shield to the darkness and insanity that roved just beneath the surface there. No need to expound upon it, and build it up. His madness had all the help it needed. She looked into his eyes, and his brought his mouth to hers so delicately, so reverently for a moment she felt as if she had missed the kiss before it began. His lips were soft against hers, his scent filled her nostrils and she felt him move. Just a slight caress, his lips against hers but in that one simple movement she forgot herself. Her reaction to him was primal, just what she was trying to avoid and her own hands went up, pushing him back against his table viciously. He reacted a great deal fast then she thought he would. His hands caught hers as they were reached for his hair, twisting them behind her back so they she couldn't touch him directly but was not discomforted in the least.

A wise precaution, she thought to herself, lately the line she would have normally never crossed, the one that existed between passion and violence had becoming thinner. Frighteningly so.

She could sense his madness growing, his own river of uncertainty rising up to meet hers like two magnets drawn to one another. She pressed her body into him as best she could in her position and in moment he had twirled her around, releasing her hands and lifting her up so she was sitting on his worktable and he was standing between her legs. Her now freed hands gripped at his jacket, dragging him as close as she could get him.

"I've missed you," he whispered in her ear, his head pressed against the side of her face.

The words shook her lust-crazed head; again breaking the dark hold on her and in his voice she caught an anchor and held on tightly to it. As he kissed her neck she raised her head, exposing her throat to him.

"I love you," she whispered "I love you so much I don't know what to do with it."

He pressed a more chaste kiss to her neck, mumbling words to her in a language she still didn't understand. She felt him press against her center, his hardness pushing forward insistently, as if his body was trying to show her evidence of his desire without being aware his words were echoing it already. Every nerve screamed for him to touch her and she could feel her own arousal growing, intensifying as he ground against her, wetting her undergarments in a way she would have been embarrassed about had she been in her right mind. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him as close as possible and grinding into him wantonly. His lips pressed tightly against her neck and then he bit down into the column of her neck, sending a jolt of pure arousal straight down to her core. Alice threw her head back, letting her hair touch the wooden table while giving Tarrant more access to her throat. It was then she glanced at the door.

* * *

Charlie stood stock-still. His eyes wide with total disbelief. Miss Iracebeth had asked him to go ahead and check to see if the Hatter had an opening today for an appointment, he had begged her to let him talk to the tailor instead. He didn't want to see the Hatter, he didn't want to speak to the man and he didn't want to be hatted. The man was always staring at him as if he were contemplating something Charlie just didn't understand not to mention the man seemed far more interested in his mother then he was all right with. Men had liked his mother before, courted her, and that had not surprised him. She was beautiful (he believed she was the most beautiful woman in the entire world) so it was only common sense in his mind that someone would want to marry her. After all, he wanted to marry her himself when he grew up. But in all that time she had never given any of those men more then a polite smile and a handshake. He had always been on her hip, in her arms or in the same the room whenever they visited and he knew his mother refused to see a man alone simply because she said it was improper. His grandmother agreed but as he got older he noticed she was always trying to introduce his mother to new, rich men. His mother had never taken to any of them and when he asked why she had always said that her kisses were for him, her hugs and smiles were only his. Perhaps that was the most upsetting thing about what he was seeing.

He had crept into the Hatter's store; the room was obviously where people were fitted. There were pretty chairs, tea trays set out and large mirrors. Dress manikins here and there, the entire place was neat and orderly, not at all looking like a place where anyone spent any time. He had been to a Hatter's in London and to the tailor many times but this room was much, much different and he liked it better then any of the other rooms he had visited. His own room was messy and he blushed realizing his mother had asked him to clean it last week and he had yet to do it.

He clutched the note in his hand. Miss Iracebeth had had him write what he was to say so he did not forget in his nervousness. He knew she was trying to get him to talk to the Hatter, because the man was supposed to be his father and wanted to get to know him. However Charlie had decided that after his interactions with Stayne he had no desire for a father; fathers were lying creatures that either left you or tried to kill you. Either way he felt life was much better without them. Still, the Hatter lived in the Castle and he was sure that if he wanted to stay in Wonderland (he did) he needed to learn to get along with the strange red haired man. Moving tentatively into the room he looked around, his eyes roving over the dozens of ladies hats that were displayed here and there. He wondered if the Hatter knew how to make boy's hats. He moved to the large mirror, his interest piqued as he watched his reflection.

He grimaced seeing himself, angry at his own looks. Staring back at him was a pale boy with long limbs and masses of curly red hair. His eyes were not like they were before and he worried about that. Gryphon had told him it was because the power inside him, the power that kept him alive now, was golden and pure. His eyes would always be gold. He hated it because his mother had always liked his eyes, she told him so. His clothes were colourful, his mother had helped him pick them out last night for today, and he had chosen his tanned coloured pants that were very light and breezy and his shirt was white with a patchwork jacket over top. He had thought himself very becoming. His attention was drawn at the sound of someone in the workroom.

Thinking Mr. Hightopp was in there he moved quickly, desperate to get the entire ordeal over with. His mother had promised that they would have their lessons this afternoon and soon he would have to be back in their rooms, sitting with her. Honestly, he really did like his lessons and was eager to see how his penmanship was improving. He moved to a frosted glass door and turned the handle, pushing so that he could get through quickly, he unfolded his paper and opened his mouth to begin when he saw what was going on in the room and couldn't speak.

His mother was there. His mother was sitting on a table with her long hair loose and falling fawn and his head tilted back like she was looking at the ceiling. The Hatter was there as well, he had his arms all over his mother, his face pressed closely to her neck and he was whispering something to her in a language Charlie knew as Outlandish (Miss Iracebeth was trying to teach him) he could only understand one or two words the Hatter was saying. He heard love in there he was sure of it. His mother seemed to saying the same thing and he heard her words very clearly. She was telling the Hatter she loved him. The man's bandaged hands were upon her, touching her in a way he was sure his grandmother would not approve of and she seemed to be gripping onto his arms. For a moment Charlie was afraid the man was hurting her. But it was her words that broke through his shock and her words that rocked his mind.

SHE LOVED HIM. Charlie felt like she had hit him. She loved the Hatter. She loved someone other then him. Just like Stayne had said she would. He felt tears prick his eyes, this was the start of something terrible, she would forget about him. Stayne had told him this would happen, that she would love someone who was not him and then they would get rid of him because children were a burden. Stayne had told him that killing him would fix all his mother's problems and he would do it as soon as his mother was close enough to see, he hadn't lied. Mr. Stayne had thrown him off a mountain. Charlie had thought since Stayne was gone it was all over but now someone else was here, in his mother's arms, pulling her away from him. He watched, unable to say anything as his mother wrapped her legs around the back of the Hatter's legs, as if her entire body was hugging the strange man. Charlie stifled a sob, he felt like he just didn't belong here. His mother was here and happy, the Hatter loved her and that meant that he was alone. He let out a small sob, running his hand over his eyes, throwing the paper the ground. Then his mother looked up. Her eyes all black and wide.

"Charlie!" she cried suddenly.

It was already too late. Seeing her face, her strange not real eyes, Charlie turned around and ran. Out of the room. He skidded into the hallway, his mother calling for him echoing through his ears. He didn't want to see her or the Hatter. He didn't want to see Miss Iracebeth or learn his lessons or be fitted for a new hat. He ignored the cries coming down the hallway, trying to block out everything around him. He just wanted to go somewhere else, somewhere away and he turned and headed for the gardens.

"Oh my god," Alice whispered, holding her half gone shirt to her chest and pulling it over herself as quickly as possible, "What have I done? What have I done?"

She kept repeating the words over and over to herself. Her face felt like it was burning, her heart was beating through her chest. Her son had just seen her... her and Tarrant...

"Alice?" Tarrant cried out, trying to hold onto her, "Alice what is the matter? Alice ."

"He saw us!" she cried, whirling around on Tarrant, her eyes wide with fear, "Charlie was right there in the doorway. He saw us."

Tarrant seemed to look at her for a moment and then frown; "Oh dear, I suppose this is going to make things more difficult."

Alice gaped. Her son had just seen her in a near state of passion and her lover, the boy's father, was looking as if she had told him she spilled red wine upon her dress and they had to a party to go too.

"Tarrant, he saw us together," she stated slowly, thinking perhaps he hadn't heard her correctly.

He looked at her through his ever-changing eyes, now greener then they had been a moment before. He was buttoning up his shirt as quickly as she was getting straightened up. He finished buttoning and then rather rapidly hurried out of the room, never saying a word. Alice followed, letting her hair free and loose as she hurried after him.

She chased him down the hall and after a few moments he turned around to look at her before continuing to where ever he was going.

"Come along Alice, time waits for no man, except when we ask him nicely," he mused, " it seems Charlie is even more fickle then Time."

She followed as quickly as she could, her eyes wide and frantic as they chased one another. She tried to keep up with him but even in his almost drunken gaunt he was faster then she was, her black dress hung off one shoulder as she pursued him, eventually catching up with him if she maintained a short jog while he walked.

"Didn't you hear me?" she snapped hotly, "What do we do?"

The Hatter stopped for a moment, causing her to overshoot him and turn around. He looked at her in confusion.

"Do?" he asked, crinkling his brow, " I am sorry, I assumed we should go after the boy. He seemed a little distraught, however I will defer to you in this matter..."

"No," she cried, her eyes shooting from the Hatter to the hallway where her son had disappeared, "OH NEVERMIND!"

Turning on her heel Alice ran as fast as she could, barreling down the hallway and following Charlie's small footsteps; she could hear Tarrant behind her but she didn't slow. The only thing that ran through her mind was guilt. How could she let herself get so carried away like that? She could not understand it. Hadn't Gryphon been telling her, chastising her, about the dangers of losing control. That her control was minute; it had to be worked upon to become more effective. And in a moment, just for that moment of lust, she had let it slip. She wanted to scream. It was maddening, more so then before. At least when she was in London the knowledge that Tarrant was literally a world away was a comfort, it smoothed out her lust and made it all the easier to deny herself to other men not to mention mere pleasures of the flesh. Of course she had had offers, she had even been tempted to accept a few, but thoughts of Tarrant and a glance at her little boy who looked so much like his father was an ice bucket on her lust, slacking it and hardening it to a cool, smooth shell. But now, with her own moral compass no longer pointing true and the object of years worth of suppressed affections within reach, it was so much more difficult. She didn't know why she felt as she did either. The Hatter was hardly the most handsome man she had ever seen, honestly he was rather queer looking when one came right down to it. His hair stuck out at odd angles and lacked the smooth curls that denoted beauty. His skin was far too pale and even underneath the white makeup she had seen him apply he was mostly orange and red. The mercury, she was very aware of it, but it bled through him, seeping out of his pours, his eyes, to the tips of his fingers and hair. His body was soaked in the poison and it would continue to be. She had never heard of a natural death in Underland and even Absolem's death was not a real death, he had been reborn readily enough. But regardless she loved the Hatter, wanted him more then she had ever wanted anything in either world and when she saw him (especially lately) it was near impossible to keep the lust from overtaking her. Only one thing stopped her.

Of course that led to Charlie. Her son had died in Wonderland, and been brought back. No one could do that without significant damage, if not in the body then certainly in the mind. She had thought he was getting better but there were times, she forced the thought to continue, times she was scared of her own child. He would look at her with those unnatural golden eyes and bring the creatures of his dreams into reality. In the end he was turning into something as wonderful and powerful as she was but lacked her control. Temper tantrums had become common place for the normally docile boy, his mood would change spontaneously and more often then not Alice found herself reacting to Charlie's incoherence before she reacted to her own needs and desires. In the grand scheme of things her running down the hallway chasing after her son with the Hatter trying to keep up was the order of her life. She would do anything for Charlie, give anything for him or in some cases, give anything up for him. He was not accepting Tarrant as she had hoped he would. And now, well she feared she had undone what little progress they had made in the past few weeks.

She sighed as she skidded to a stop at the open archways. She could see Charlie's brilliant red hair shimmering as he bolted across the cherry tree orchards. Sighing she moved to follow then stopped short as an arm held her back. Turning around she found herself face to face with Tarrant. The Hatter looked at her through vibrant green eyes smiling absently, as if oblivious to their predicament. It made her irrationally angry.

"Stay here," she snapped, "I am going after him. Let me go."

"Shouldn't I follow?" he asked rather innocently, his hand was still upon her arm "I seem to recall something along those lines, a poem perhaps?"

"No, don't follow." she replied hotly, "Stay right here. I don't need you for this."

He seemed to deflate at her words looking at her through green eyes full of hurt, and then she noted the change. The hurt was disappearing and melding into something different. She felt the hot stab of anger around her, its unanticipated appearance far too quick for her to guard against. Without willing it so her ire rushed up to meet it, mingling with it and strengthening it the moment their two emotions intertwined and snapped back into place.

"Of course, you don'na need me. You ne'r do." he snapped hotly, "Slurvish, Naught fer usal...

"Don't you even start! You're hardly in any state to be judging me on my reason." she hissed viciously, feeling the darkness come upon her and staring it down. She jerked her arm out of his grasp violently all the while trying to control the anger. She knew it wasn't his fault but the emotion was there and it was so intense it ploughed over her meager defenses. The Hatter's eyes gleamed orange in the light.

She did not wait to see how he reacted; instead she turned on her heel and rushed towards Charlie, ignoring the harsh words that had spewed from her mouth and his.


	3. The Third one

A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks so much for all the supportive reviews and all the hits, I totally appreciate it. Also I have added a few drawings of how I see the characters on my Deviant Art is anyone is interested. They are of Allyonia, Gryphon, Tempus and Charlie.

:)

* * *

The Third One

Charlie lost himself among the flittering pinkish flowers that seemed to fall like raindrops all around. He let out a wild sob, rubbing his tears into the sleeve of his shirt as he leaned against one of the thick trunks and began to cry in earnest.

The shock of what he was seeing had worn off and as soon as he had run away from his mother and thought through what was happening. She and Mr. Hightopp had been kissing and touching and not at all in a way he had ever seen before. The sheer disbelief and fear was replaced by anger and sadness. It wasn't fair. Not at all. Just when he had thought things would go back to normal (maybe even better?), when Mr. Stayne was gone and they were safe in the pretty white palace, his mother was being stolen away by some silly, Haberdasher! He wanted to yell and scream. Nothing ever worked out well. When they were in London it was just him and his mum and no one else. Everyone thought they were mad and did not want to go near them. That had suited him just fine, of course it would have been nice to have friends but his mother made up for it. It was them against the world and honestly Charlie was perfectly comfortable with that. Here no one thought they were mad but people tried to kill him (lots of the people in the castle told him Mr. Stayne had killed him- he wasn't quite sure how to deal with that) and his mother took up with strange men that made odd hats. There was certainly no excuse for that, not even if Mr. Hightopp was his father. Charlie sniffled. Perhaps she would replace him just as Stayne said she would. A horrible thought came to his mind. Perhaps that's what she was doing with Mr. Hightopp, maybe they would make other children, children that were better then him. They would get married start again with normal children who did not have horrible orange hair that grew too quickly and who could draw pictures that did not come to life. And whose eyes were green, NOT GOLD.

Oh how he hated that!

Charlie had always liked his odd eyes. His mother had always told them they made him handsome. A hero's eyes she had called them. She had always said she had fallen for his father because of those ever changing eyes. Now those were gone and she had turned to the Hatter, with his odd eyes rather then him. He felt betrayed. His mother was supposed to be on his side, not the horrible Hatter's. He was more important and they were supposed to be together, they would have to be together, after all they would have to go home sooner or later and unless Mr. Hightopp was coming with them (a frightening thought indeed) they would have to get along without him. Unless they got married and had to stay with Mr. Hightopp and learn to make hats.

The more he thought about it the worse it was.

Father? Lies. Nothing but lies. If he was a father where had he been all those years. Father's were supposed to talk to you and play catch and teach boys things. He knew this to be true. His classmates had often spoken of fathers. They were supposed to wear brown suits and work in places like banks or shops or in the service. Mr. Hightopp made hats. He wore suits that were too many colours and often looked raggedy. He did not play catch nor had he ever offered too and Charlie was sure in order to teach him something Mr. Hightopp would have to stop staring at him without blinking and start talking to him. That was another thing; Mr. Hightopp didn't ever really talk to him. He just stared at him. Whenever they ate at the White Queen's table the Hatter stared at him as if he needed to say something but couldn't find the words to say it. It made him feel like he felt in school, when the teacher would look at him with those dark eyes that said he was wrong. That there was something seriously wrong with him and it must be fixed or snuffed out. More then anything Charlie wanted to be normal. Him and his mother had a chance to start over in this amazing place, they could be normal and people wouldn't think his Mum was insane. It would not happen now and certainly not if she lived with the Hatter. The Hatter was stealing her away and with her any chances they had at a normal family. He sobbed again, it just wasn't fair.

"Interesting,"

The light masculine voice caused Charlie to nearly jumped out of his skin. He forced out a high-pitched squeak as he dated forward, toppling over his own feet in an effort to make some distance between the tree and his body. Backing up he turned his head to look at the person who had spoken.

He had not even noticed another person sitting in the orchard, in fact he was sure that there wasn't a person there and that he had been alone. Turning around to sit on his behind while leaning back on his hands, he looked up to see a man leaning against one of the trees. At least it could have been a man; the sunlight was setting and even looking closely he wasn't quite sure what the human before him really was. The man standing there was watching him carefully through eyes that looked like melted silver, his hair was long and a warm golden colour and it fell down his back in a cascade of mad, perfectly formed curls. He was very thin with long, lean legs; dove grey pants, brown leather books and a billowy navy coloured shirt that wrapped around covered light coloured skin. His thinness made Charlie think perhaps he could be a very tall woman. The man's face was delicately boned, pale with soft looking lips and eyes line with dark colour that reminded Charlie of some of the ladies that would come to his mother's parties. This man held himself in the same gentle way. He was looked at his hands as if there were some strange thing to be discovered there before Charlie realized he was checked his pocket watch. The man seemed to smile at the thing, running his fingertips over it before snapping it shut and tucking it into his shirt. Charlie reached into his own pant pockets producing the pocket watch his mother had given him when he had gone to speak to Mr. Hamish. He always carried it on him even though he was still uncertain about how to decipher the time, especially in Wonderland. He looked at the smooth golden surface and the precise ticking noise it made. He wondered if Mr. Hightopp would be taking it back seeing as it was his in the first place. The thought brought back his anxieties and angrily Charlie tightened his grip upon it.

"A beautiful piece boy," the man creature smiled, twisting gracefully away from the tree and dropping to the ground next to Charlie, "Where ever did you get it?"

Charlie pulled it a little closer to his chest, looking up to see the man staring at him. He was sure it was a man now, but just barely.

"My mother gave it to me and my father gave it to her and now it's mine." Charlie replied.

The man tilted his head; as if he were observing something only he could see. He pulled Charlie's hand from his chest so that the timepiece was exposed between them. Unable to stop him or rather curious about him Charlie simply watched as the man ran a finger over the surface of the watch, his eyes glittering in the dying sunlight.

"Your father you say?" he whispered gently, looking at the pocket watch as Charlie held it out, "Ah yes. I remember you my little friend, so many years ago and I stopped your ticking only to start it up again. "

Charlie was not sure who the man was speaking to but he had a strong notion that it was not him. The man seemed to stare at him in new light, shifting silver eyes watching the small watch on its chain. Feeling a stab of alarm Charlie tucked it back in it's place, as soon as the thing was out of sight the silver eyed man turned his attention back to him. He seemed to lean in over him, practically bracing around him like s small tree bowing in the wind. Then touched his noise into the top of Charlie's head and closing his eyes he took in a deep breath. Charlie froze like a rabbit in the jaws of a fox; not daring to move while the strange man was near him. He had heard of men who hurt children but he had never thought to see one here, not with all the knights and chess pieces to keep everyone safe. It was terrifying to realize he might be in harms way again and he froze in fear, remembering his time spent with Mr. Stayne. After a few more breaths the man seemed to back away and fix him with that intense glare, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"You smell of my brothers." he stated seriously, "You smell like my kin."

"I don't know what I smell like," Charlie replied simply, "I smell like me I think..."

The man shook his head absently. He looked so out of place in the orchard yet so unnoticeable at the same time. Charlie kept his eyes trained on the man so he wouldn't stop noticing.

"No, no I am sure of it. You smell like my kin," he grinned, standing up suddenly, "Honestly you surprise me. There are no children in Underland, none that I know of anyhow and I would know of all of them. "

Charlie smiled, he could easily answer this questions, and "I am not from Underland I am from London."

"London?" the man replied with a curious glance, "Aboveworld London? No, that cannot be."

"It's true," Charlie insisted, finding this vein of conversation easily accessible and thus granting him more confidence, "I wen to school there. You may ask my mother. Her name is Alice and she is in the palace."

"Alice?" the man questioned, a smile spreading across his face, "_The_ Alice. What a pleasure! I knew your mother as a child. When she was just a little thing, or when she was much older. Sometime. I think I did. Anyhow I should very much like to meet her again."

Charlie smiled at the man. Perhaps he was not so bad. He seemed to be distracted again, looking around as if he were unsure of his surroundings. He turned to look at him with confused eyes.

"Where am I again?" he asked carefully, "The balance of Underland has been off for years and I get confused rather easily. I rely on the balance you see. My brothers have been fighting. Well, HAD been. One of them died recently you know."

"I'm sorry," Charlie replied instantly, "I died recently too and it's not fun."

The man didn't seem to think this statement odd and merely nodded. Charlie brushed off his clothing, looking around for a moment before reaching his hand out to the man. The man gave him a grateful smile.

"Thank you. " the man answered graciously, placing his hand in Charlie's outstretched one.

* * *

"Charlie! Charlie " A loud voice carried through the orchards.

"Come on," Charlie tugged at his new friend's hand, dragging him around, "That's my mummy and I don't want to see her right now."

Without any more of an explanation he wove through the trees, heading back to a more reclusive part of the castle where he might spend some time with his new friend on his own.

"I do not think he's here," the Gryphon replied easily, "He's not in danger, I would sense if that were the case Perhaps he's just angry with you."

Alice turned to look to her golden companion, her eyes wide with shock. She had found the Gryphon once more; or rather he had found her. He had sensed her distress and had come to her side, as he seemed to so often do. However this time she was grateful for it. She felt she needed a good support system giving how thoroughly she had buggered up everything today. Tarrant was angry with her (and for good reason, she had snapped at him) Charlie was avoiding her (either out of embarrassment or anger towards Tarrant) and she had yet to actually master what Gryphon described as one of the most basic aspects of her powers. Locating someone based on their energy. To boot their brother was supposed to be arriving any moment now. A brother she was not too intent on meeting. There was to be a trial and the outcome was very uncertain. She was sure the stake were high but Gryphon was keeping pretty tight lipped about the entire ordeal, as if discussing it was a crime in and of itself. The moment she had seen him she had grabbed the Gryphon's hand and dragged him through the orchard, at least she would not have to search for Charlie alone and Gryphon would be able to sense his nearness. However they had had little luck and now that the sun she knew looking was a silly notion and she would have to trust her teacher's word that her son was in no danger.

"So what is your brother like?" Alice asked, relieved that her son was safe but dreading the necessity of speaking to Charlie of what he had seen.

Gryphon chuckled at that, turning his dark eyes to her, "He was the youngest of us of course. My twin and I were always a great deal more flamboyant in both appearance and manners. Time was smaller, just as important but not as noticeable. For as much as people pay attention to Time unless you purposely do so you rarely see or feel it's passing. He is more of a wanderer, his roles not clearly defined. He comes and goes as he pleases, does as he wishes but must forever remain in the mortal realm. Unlike the Jabberwocky and myself Time has not choice of sleeping away centuries. He has always been in his form whatever that form might be."

"What do you mean?" Alice asked, turning to look at him.

The Gryphon smiled his painfully handsome smile, his mouth quirking at the question.

"You and I shall see Time as he truly is, as he was born to be. But just as this is not my form his form is different for those who look upon him. " The Gryphon replied easily, "Most Underlandanders see him as he appears in their mind. Sometimes old or sometimes young, male or female, animal or human. It's all in how you see him. Since we are in human form he will likely take human form but if he makes no effort to change his form and hold it, it is forever changing. He also grows bored easily. He can be quite fickle. I believe that is why your lover murdered him once."

Alice stopped short, her eye wide.

"Tarrant murdered Time?" she gasped.

"Attempted to," the Gryphon chuckled, "Although as much as anyone can kill Time he can never truly die. Not really. Anyhow the Red Queen held the trial and my brother became so offended at the entire ordeal he stormed out and stopped time from passing for the Hatter. I believed they have been on the outs ever since although I haven't spoken to him in many lifetimes."

Alice thought the entire ideal one of the queerest things she had confronted in Wonderland but in the end she was willing to accept it. She turned to look at Gryphon once more.

"So he will hold a trial for us?" she asked now.

"Yes," Gryphon sighed, "Of the three of us Time is the most impartial. In fact Time is always called to witness the most important trials in Underland. After all only Time can tell how what the true effects of a person's actions will be. Sadly I had heard from Jabberwocky that in the last few generation the imbalance of power has seriously upset Time, offsetting his mind. I make no claim to how sane or impartial he might be. If he has lost his ability to think clearly we are in a very real sort of danger."

"You mean he would kill us, can he do that?" Alice asked tentatively, "Wait, you said he sees how things play out. Do you mean he has the ability to see the future?"

The Gryphon stopped walking, turning immediately and looking down at her with his serious eyes. His jovial mood had evaporated. He gripped her by both shoulders and stared at her intensely.

"You must not question that and never try It." he admonished, all the childlike wonder gone, "We each have our own domains. It will one day within your power to see the future. But you must inform me the moment you are able to do it, you must learn to control it so as to never do it again."

Alice felt a chill run up her spine, "Why?"

The Gryphon shook his head, making the platinum blond hair swing from side to side, "It is a great burden to see the future. You shall soon be bound by the same rules my brothers and I were bound too. In fact it is amazing that you were able to survive this long as it is, I would not throw temptation into the pot of things you are being forced to cope with. When one can see the future non interference is so difficult. You will not be able to stop any of the horrors that befall those around you until one day you will try and then you will become too dark to contain yourself."

"The Jabberwocky's appearance..." she whispered softly.

"Exactly," Gryphon replied, "My brother saw the Red Queen and what her reign would do so he placed himself in a position to stop her. He made himself her weapon with the hope that he would be able to put a stop to her madness. However the moment he placed himself in the influence of mortals he became tangled in their web, interwoven."

Alice's brow furrowed, "You mean like Fate?"

The Gryphon's eyes grew comically wide and he pressed his hand against her mouth suddenly, "Don't speak her name. If she hears you she might turn her eyes upon you and no one wants that. We definitely don't want her involved and if she discovers what has happened she will involve herself, she always does. We've managed to keep her from Underland proper in a great long while, it would not be wise to invite her back in this time of turmoil. Time will deal with this in his way. He is burdened with future and past. You will see what I mean..."

"Are you certain?" Alice pushed, "It seems to me like you need someone to intervene in this situation."

"Not her," he replied sharply.

The Gryphon stopped speaking for a moment before closing his eyes. A breeze seemed to lift his hair, his nose taking in a deep breath. He smiled at the sensation, as if the wind itself was telling him something.

"Come Alice, we must hurry to the throne room. Our brother arrives and all welcome him."

* * *

Mirana had intercepted Tarrant almost accidentally, nearly walked straight into the raving man as he crossed through the colonnades, pacing back and forth like an angry, caged animal. She had known Tarrant for a great deal of time, before his madness even, and if there was one thing she knew how to do it was anticipate his madness. She had to approach him slowly, watching as he moved quickly from side to side, as if he were locked in his own madness, muttering many rather creative outlandish curses she had not heard in some time. Her gaze looked out nervously to the nearby trees, hoping those in the grove were not close enough to hear the poison anger seeping from the milliner's mouth. She stood off to the side for a few moments as he looked up at her, unseeing her at first before the more controlled part of his mind seemed to overtake him and he came too. She watched as his green eyes reasserted themselves, chasing away the angry orange gleam of madness. She smoothed her dress and made herself as soft and serene as possible.

"Hatter?" she asked gently, "Tarrant?"

He raised his eyes to her, the swirling amber colour dangerously close to orange as the green tried for dominance. She nearly gasped; no one in all of Underland had ever come up with a credible explanation for the Hightopp eyes. It was one of those glorious mysteries that surrounded the rather secretive clan. However, everyone could agree they were stunning in their ability to reflect the mood of the person, it was as if all the Hightopps wore their feelings in their eyes (which they really did) shamelessly proclaiming their anger, hate, love and happiness for all to see. They were a sight to behold and more times then not Mirana had wished her own dark eyes could portray the sort of depth that Tarrant's did.

"She said I was unneeded," he snapped, "She said it as if it was nothing, as if she were asking for the time. There is no time, I gave it all to her and she took it and now there is no longer any need for me. I yelled at her."

Not quite sure what he was saying Mirana did the only thing she knew might possible help, she comforted, "Come now Hatter, it cannot be all that bad. What has happened?"

He related the story to her in great detail and Mirana had to stifle a laugh at the idea of Charlie catching Alice and the Hatter together. The boy had worked his way into her heart and despite her worry at his lack of affection towards her dear friend she found the child to be in possession of the Hightopp charm in spades. She had never really known a child before and if Charlie was to go by she could see why Alice had gone to such great lengths to keep him safe. She could also see why Alice was so concerned.

"I am certain she did not mean to be cruel," the Queen smiled, "she was probably embarrassed at being caught in such a state."

"What state?' Tarrant asked confusedly, "I am sure I have no idea what you mean."

"Well most women are not comfortable with their children witnessing a moment of… passion with their paramours." she replied as smoothly as possible.

The Hatter seemed to pause at this, as if he had never considered it before. Brow furrowed he turned to look at Mirana with questioning eyes.

"Are you certain my Queen?" he asked, the sense of disbelief was clear in his tone, "It would make a great deal more sense I would think. But it must not be. When I was a child I must have done the same thing to my parents a dozen times or so. They had a good laugh at it. I admit they did turn a little yellow in the eyes and my father spoke to me on it..."

"Tarrant you must remember Alice if not from Underland." she suggested gently, "Aboveworld has different rules."

He nodded and then looked at her again with a rouged blush staining his cheeks, "To have such a silly rule. After all, if not for that then the child would never have been born at all. I was not as if we were in a true state of, um, undress."

The Queen smiled at him and placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"The boy is also from Aboveworld and he is rather young," she mused, "he might not even know how he was created."

That seemed to stop the Hatter once again. She could see he was pulling from the anger, moving back into his more well tempered self. She wanted to scream sometimes with the horror the Horunvendush Day had caused. Years ago, in her court, Tarrant had been such a happy creature. Madness was of course, a risk with his profession and she knew that eventually most of the Hightopps went totally mad; even then they seemed content in their madness. Oft times it was so intertwined with their talents and genius no one in Underland could tell whether a Hightopp was truly mad or just incredibly gifted. Still they were a close-knit clan, all with incredible talent and abilities. To think that Iracebeth had allowed the destruction of such a clan in a nasty power play, well she had done what she could to forget that day. To banish the screams of the children. In all honestly it was that small seed of anger and darkness and she and her sister had been born with that kept her alive and sane. The fact that Tarrant had not had that darkness had been his downfall; he was tethered so close to madness that even the slightest push would have careened him over. Witnessing the mass murder of his family, well that had been overstepping the line.

"Is that all your upset about?" Mirana asked carefully.

"He hates me." Tarrant replied soberly without any need to explain whom he was referring to, "I want to explain why he shouldn't but when I look at him I just see everyone else on that day and then I can't speak."

She felt the sting of pity for her red haired friend and reached over to comfortingly place a hand on his forearm.

"Does he look much like your family?" Mirana asked carefully.

Instead of the sadness she expected the Hatter actually grinned, "Aye, just like them. You remember my mother?"

"Oh yes," Mirana smiled, this time it was unhindered by worry and instead was a pure honest expression of happiness, "Miss Allyonia was a lovely lady. She made me my first dress and bonnet. I was just a girl then."

The Hatter seemed to perk up at this, "I think I remember that. I was probably no more then a child. It was so, so long ago. Before time stopped for me. They are good memories."

Mirana smiled, trying to recall that moment. She could call to mind being very excited about it, her mother and sister both were with her while she was being presented with the finished product. Fittings had been done, promises made and then before her a dress so while it could have been spun from moonbeams and so light it seemed to be made from gossamer. She was afraid simply touching it would ruin it but the dressmaker and laughed at her kindly and had helped her into it. She tried to picture the face of the woman but she could not, all she could remember was the hair.

"She had red hair, " Mirana stated suddenly, her eyes fixing on the Hatter, "Just like Charlie's."

The Hatter nodded, "Aye, mine is a bit more on the orange side. Mercury you see. My mother was a renowned beauty of Witzend and not of the main Hightopp branch. They were all like that, with their long red curls and stunning eyes. Normally blue you see, or gray, quite a rarity in the clan. She might have been a distant relation but close enough distance as to make her a good match for my father. He was already your father's Hatter if I recall correctly and as a wedding present the Red King himself presided over the marriage himself."

Mirana smiled, "My mother loved yours dearly. She was her greatest supporter and confidant. As you have always been mine. She would be quite proud I would think."

Tarrant lowered his face, a blush upon his cheeks.

"I do not recall your mother's eyes colour." Mirana continued, seeing the positive note this vein was inspiring.

"Her eyes were blue." he replied softly, almost adoringly, "The bluest blue you had ever seen. As bright as the sky itself"

"Oh so you must have inherited your green eyes from your father." she stated.

It only took her a few seconds to realize she had said the wrong thing. His arm grew stiff in her grasp; his face grew hard and angry. She could see the dark orange colour slip into the pools of green.

"I received nothing from him." The Hatter ground out coldly his voice so sharp it could cut glass.

She was about to apologize, to say something to diffuse the situation when suddenly a frantic Bayard came running down the hall, pups at his heels. He skidded to a stop right before them, panting and his eyes wild.

"Your Majesty, you are needed in the throne room. Time is here and he has the boy." Bayard panted.

Mirana didn't have to look to know Tarrant's ire had dissipated. Her dark eyes sought out his green ones. Without a world they both bolted down the white hallway intent on the throne room and the necessary defense of the sole child of Underland.


	4. The Fourth one

A/N: sorry for the delay, I had a hectic weekend. As always thanks to those reading, I appreciate it and to those reviewing YOU GUYS ROCK.

* * *

The Fourth

Charlie was wondering what all the fuss was about.

He had led the man into the White palace, all the while reassuring him that everything was all right. The man seemed confused and tired. He told Charlie his name was Tempus and that he had been travelling for a long, long time from places far away. Charlie had thought that was interesting and as they walked through the orchards Tempus had reached down and lifted him up. After crying and running from his mother he was grateful for being carried. In fact the only man who had carried him in was Mr. Stayne.

"You are the first child I have seen in many, many years," Tempus had stated easily as they walked through the trees calmly holding him as if he weighed nothing, "I love children. Truly they are the most interesting creatures of my acquaintance. I did love to speak with them when I could."

"Why can't you now?" Charlie asked.

Tempus seemed to pause at that, a sad look passing over his features. For a moment Charlie felt really bad, as if he had made the man cry. He tightened his grip around his neck, pressing his face to the man's neck in an approximation of a hug. The strangest ticking sound filled his ears as he did just as quickly Charlie pulled away.

"They died." he whispered before fixing his eyes upon Charlie's, "Far before their time. I had no way of stopping it and nothing to do with it. It broke my heart to know my brother had slayed them all. Children are rare and exceptionally special, they stay children for so little time. Even those who are ageless and do not grow old will grow wise and lose their innocence. I took vengeances upon my brother for their deaths. I visited fate and together she and I bound him to the mortal realm. I feel his twin; my other brother never forgave me for it. We have not spoken in so long..."

"Well I've never had a brother," Charlie began tentatively, "But I knew boys that did. And Miss Iracebeth has a sister. She said that brothers and sisters seem to forgive one another everything."

"I don't know if my brother will forgive me," Tempus replied gently, "I am a hard headed creature at times, unrelenting."

Charlie grinned, "My mummy says I'm stubborn as well. Especially since I can draw things to life now."

The man stopped moving, his silver eyes fixed upon him and Charlie felt a tension seeping into his heart.

"You can do that can you?" he asked with great interest, "It is a very rare gift to have. I would know. I've known those who can do it"

"Really?" Charlie exclaimed happily.

"Yes, every eternity there is one born with that power. It is a great, great gift. You must be an extraordinary little boy."

Charlie beamed from ear to ear. It was the first time in his life someone who was not his mother had called him that. It made warmth spread through his chest and he puffed up a little. The man holding him smiled gently.

"I can see something in you." Tempus continued, "Something that is in me."

They had reached the edge of the orchards and were walking along the marble paths that led to the inside of the castle. Charlie had explored every single one of them over the last few months, (he loved a good wander) and knew them intimately. Tempus had gone quiet again and he decided it was far too much trouble to worry about adult things, childish things were much more interesting. His mind wandered to thoughts of his mother and the Hatter together and he frowned. It was silly of him to worry about it now. Adults did funny things. He would talk to her later and tell her he did not want her to see the Hatter (just as he had done with all the men in London who had wanted to marry her) and then that would be that.

Pleased with himself he pointed towards a large archway guarded by two knight shaped chess pieces. His mind immediately went to his chess set in his mother's quarters; he so heartedly wished to play.

"Do you play chess Mr. Tempus?" he asked eagerly.

The brass haired man seemed to regard him carefully before nodding.

"Then once you have a meeting with the Queen can we play together?" Charlie ventured.

"I should like that very much," Tempus replied happily.

* * *

Her entire life she had only see Time a handful of instances, the first when her sister had taken the crown and become the Red Queen, the second was at her sister's wedding and the third directly after Horunvendush day. In all three occasions he had appeared to her in different forms, she later surmised the forms reflected her own impressions of him. At the crowning he had looked like a courtier, at her sister's wedding he had appeared as a priest and after that fateful day on the hill he had appeared in the garb of a Hightopp. She had never spoken to him directly but she had known him. For the first two occasions she had seen him with an entourage, women usually dressed in long grey gowns with long hair following him around with candles. The last she had snuck out of the palace to go to Witzend desperate to see her Hatter and friend Tarrant Hightopp. She had approached the ruins of Hightopp hill with caution, fearful for Stayne and the Jabberwocky, but instead had found him. Time had been standing in the center where the maypole had once stood and in his arms he cradled the body of a small child.

She could recall his whispers and as she approached she could hear they were apologies intermingled with an intense one-sided conversation that made his silvery eyes gleam in the moonlight. Her curiosity was insatiable and after taking a few steps closer it became clear he was telling the dead bodies their own futures. He was naming their names, telling them the most important moments they should have had in their lives, telling them the names of those they would wed, those they would give birth to or sire, those who would be of great importance and those who would betray them. He included himself in their list. After a moment of bearing witness to this Mirana could not stay, she decided she would take a group to Witzend in the morning to check on the Hatter but until then she could not witness this burial any further. By the time they had returned in the morning and buried what was left o the dead no one dared question that the children were gone; their bodies missing from the carnage. The Hatter had no answer for them, or for anyone about anything that had happened on the hill that night and The White Queen had never told a soul about what she had seen but for the rest of her life it had stayed in her head and heart. The idea that time was stolen from the children had seemed logical but after that night at Witzend she realized the children might have been stolen from Time as well.

With the Hatter at her side she had entered the greater throne room and was no at all surprised to see Time standing at the center, dressed casually with Charlie in his arm. The boy was heavy (she had carried him a few times) but Time seemed unperturbed at his weight. In fact he seemed completely at ease with a child in his arms. Even as the White knights held him at the point of their spears the man seemed ignorant of any danger (although Mirana considered he probably wasn't in any danger). He was speaking animatedly to the boy instead of railing at the situation, ignoring the men in the room who seemed like they might try to kill him as if they were nothing more then ants crawling upon the ground.

"I like being the white pieces," Charlie smiled, "Mummy always lets me be the white ones because they go first."

"Ah, you like the advantage then?" Time teased, "I think I shall enjoy beating you."

"You won't beat me," Charlie cried indignantly, "And it is quite rude of you to say so."

Time grinned at the statement, reaching forward and running his free hand through riotous red curls, "Well I apologize then. I would hate to be rude. Manners are a mark of civilization."

Mirana turned to see Tarrant stiffen beside her. He was tensed up the same way Bayard had been when one of his pups had nearly been eaten by the jubjub bird. His entire body seemed ready to pounce, his hands were shaking in front of him and his face was dead serious. She felt the tension in the situation immediately and was certain to see him go madder then usual. So instead she did the only thing she could think of, she relied on manners.

"My Lord Time," Mirana stated congenially, gliding towards the center of the room where Time was standing with Charlie, "What a pleasure to see you here in my humble throne, is there anything I myself or the kingdom of Marmoreal might do for you?"

Time turned to look at her and she was struck by his appearance. He was a strong man but lean, his eyes were churning silver and his hair was long and brassy with curl to it. His clothing was immaculate and he looked at her with an almost casual interest. As if it were merely a coincidence he had arrived in her throne room.

"Were you not expected me?" he asked, "I would have thought you would be expecting me."

Mirana kept her smile in place but paused for a moment, "No my Lord but you are most welcome."

"Unexpected?" Time gaped, his silver eyes narrowed before he seemed to notice Tarrant, "And you seem to have my murderer in attendance. This is quite the day for surprises is it not my young man?"

Charlie didn't stay anything he just looked at Tarrant as well, fixing him with his best glare.

"Do you know Mr. Hightopp my young one?" Time asked the boy carefully, his eyes never leaving Tarrant, "He was once so enticed with a lady a few years ago that he attempted to kill me so that his tea party would not have to end before she was in attendance."

"Yes," the boy replied, "I know him. He was kissing my Mummy earlier."

Time seemed to smile at that statement, as if a hypothesis had been revealed. He looked closely at the boy and then once more at Tarrant. Mirana felt a knot of dread settling in the put of her stomach at the eyes the two were making at one another.

"I see it now." he drawled, "Is this your son Tarrant? I should have expected that when the children would return to Underland it would be the Hightopp clan to do it. You were all so _prolific_."

"Give me the boy," the Hatter growled, his accent getting in the way of his words, his stance aggressive.

Mirana took a step away.

Charlie seemed to be silent, sensing the danger; his golden eyes were staring at the Hatter with nervousness.

"No," Time replied as if it was the most ludicrous idea he had ever heard. He turned to hold Charlie away.

Tarrant stepped closer, totally unafraid, "You'll give me my son or I shall run you down again."

Time glared back, "I am a Lord of Underland and you are merely a Milliner. You are no match for me."

"I will kill you, you silly cur," he replied, "Give me my boy."

Mirana glanced back and forth worriedly; the situation was deteriorating so rapidly she could not even think to act against either party. The two were bearing down at on one another, like two angry dogs circling and growling. Tarrant's eyes were growing darker, the mask of ferocity setting into place. TO her great shock Tempus seemed to mirror those actions, his placid features turning on a dime, as his silvery eyes seemed to turn to iron.

"Put me down Tempus," Charlie stated to Time, his eyes darting between the two men "I'm not going get lost."

"No," Time replied sharply, "Hightopp's are not responsible enough for the care of children. I left children in your stead before and look what happened."

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say and Mirana cried as the Hatter lunged towards Time with a feralness that made the child in the man's arms cower. Time readied himself as if he were anticipating the attack. Mirana braced herself.

"Tarrant STOP!" the command was authoritative and cold enough to freeze water.

Mirana's eyes turned towards the noise as did everyone else's and for a moment she could only stand in awe of what she was seeing. Gryphon and Alice were at the threshold of the throne room, each standing in a different archway and each looking fierce. The tepidness the Gryphon had displayed over the last few months did not show in that moment. In fact every ounce of passivity Mirana had witness had disappeared leaving a man with the countenance of a king and the appearance of a god in its wake. His snowy hair was loose, moving as if an invisible breeze was lifting it up and down. His eyes burned like dark coals, blacker then black with a hint of fury behind them. The sunlight set his skin aglow, his eyes were focused on the man holding Charlie and for a moment he looked every bit the Lord of Underland he was supposed to be.

Alice was even more impressive; in a long dress of ebony her eyes were a matching to his, full black with no whites visible. Her smooth pale arms hung by her sides and even her golden blonde hair seemed to reflect an inner darkness rather then light. She looked intimidating, fearsome and beautiful. Her expression was one of cold fury and her eyes were fixed on her son with an intensity that screamed danger.

"Tarrant stand down," she whispered, yet her voice carried a clear warning.

She and the Gryphon stepped forward together, moving in perfect synchronization. As soon as the pair neared the two men her attention was drawn from Charlie and turned to Time.

"You will give my son to me." it wasn't a question, it was a clear demand and she was not asking.

The White Queen watched Time take the two in, quicksilver eyes going from black to light grey in an instant. His gaze shifted from her to the figure next to her before his mouth broke into a grateful smile.

"Brother!" he exclaimed happily, moving towards the Gryphon.

The Gryphon did not respond immediately but he did move towards the other man, opening his arms and catching in his grasp while the other man clung on desperately. Time's mood seemed to change in that instant and happiness drained away leaving the smaller of the two Lords shuddering and broken. Mirana did not know what to do. A Lord of Underland was weeping while a fallen Lord comforted. It was one of the most surreal things she had ever-bare witness to. She watched as Alice neared them and took her son from the tangle of limbs, holding him casually upon her hip. It was amazing that even in this surreal situation Alice looked natural as a mother. The blonde woman looked into the main throne room, her eyes meeting the Hatter's for only a moment before he stormed away. Watching her friend go Mirana was suddenly overcome with her own duties, feeling it best to allow the small family (?) to become reacquainted she set off to find her sister. Racie would definitely want to be involved with the upcoming ball.

* * *

Iracebeth sat on her small chair, her eyes looking out into the Underland sunset. Coming to Marmoreal felt wrong, it felt like walking backwards instead of going forwards. These were the halls she had summered in as a child. Her father had always told her Marmoreal was a sacred place of goodness and light, not really for them but an allowable indulgence for the White Queen and Princess. Her father had always been very understanding of that. He would gather her in his arms and say 'Racie, let us leave the delicate stuff for the woman folk, these White Queens bleed blue just as we do. You're mother and sister have their gentleness but us Racie, we have our fire."

She had loved it. It had made her feel so noble. So a part of something. Her father had always been a huge influence on her own life; it was he who had been her first Dominion over Living things Teacher. It was he who had placed the Red crown in her control and it was he who had kept her king in line. Then it had all ended. Her parents had gone. Her King had been executed and the people were terrified of her, and Stayne had betrayed her.

She shook her head, looking at her own small hands. Stayne. She feared his name would always send a chill down her spine. Ever since she and Charlie had escaped the Outlands had she been confronted with the horrible fact that Stayne had used her, hated her and had abused her in every possible way. She knew she could hold her head high on one account; she had never let him touch the boy. She had taken a great deal more pain and punishment then even Mirana had known but she had not broken. She had kept the little boy safe and now, almost as it were a reward, the boy stayed by her side. Then again, he might still be afraid, Stayne had never been found. Of course Iracebeth did not think he would dare set foot in Marmoreal, not with Alice and the Gryphon here. Stayne may have tried to become an Underland Lord but he had failed and Alice's position was absolute.

She looked around her room. Mirana had given her her old childhood room, the only room in White castle that had no white at all in it. Of course that had changed once Mirana had taken over and now there were plenty of rooms with colour in the confines of the castle. Still, this room reminded Iracebeth of happier times. Times when she was not jealous of her pretty little sister and her own future looked bright. Sighing to herself she draped the blanket over her legs and motioned for the card guard to roll her towards the balcony.

Walking was something of a challenge and so long after her near death she was still struggling to recover. Of course Charlie was there every step of the way, babying her and talking to her. He seemed eager to split his time between his two comfort zones, his mother and herself. She secretly pitied the poor Hightopp. She had seen the way the boy was with him, indifferent in the best case totally animus in the worst. Charlie didn't need to speak for her to understand what he was feeling. One of the courtiers had been exceptionally kind to her as of late, taking the time to speak to her when she was near, she had her best to avoid him. After being with Stayne she had had enough of lovers, paramours and romantic interests to last a lifetime. She just wanted to be left alone and she knew Charlie felt the same way. Stayne had pretended to be his father and to a boy no one wanted to father that was enormous. Then he had abandoned that commitment almost immediately. Going on to abuse the innocent trust only a young child could bestow on another human being. Stayne had done even more damage. It was almost as if he had set out to destroy everything the child had dreamed father's should be. He had poisoned them both against him and in the end it had lead to his downfall. Sadly she could observe Stayne had won, Charlie avoided the Hatter for the same reason she avoided that courtier, they were just not ready for another Stayne in their lives.

"Racie? May I come in?"

Iracebeth turned to look at her sister standing in the doorway. Mirana looked tentative, almost as if she would be denied but the Red Queen smiled and motioned for her to come near. Immediately the Card Guard slipped away, leaving the sisters with one another.

"I heard some commotion downstairs," Iracebeth started, "Is everything alright?"

Mirana sat down primly on a chair before she seemed to deflate before Iracebeth's eyes. She was worrying her hands together, a trait she had picked up from their mother, and her dark eyes were almost unfocussed as if in deep thought. She turned to Iracebeth and then immediately fell on her knees before her, placing her white head in her elder sister's lap. The Red Queen froze for a moment before giving into a smile and began running her fingers through the long platinum hair. Often times, when they were children, Mirana would do this. When she needed to think she needed to be dramatic and their parents had indulged it. Seeing no harm in indulging it for just a few moments (especially when Mirana had done so much for her in these last few weeks) she let her sister take her time to figure things out. It was part of being the elder; she had always been quicker to make decisions while Mirana agonized over every little thing. If not for Alice Iracebeth was certain she would have won the war, then again she had been paranoid and insane so perhaps life was better this way.

"Racie, I don't know what to do," Mirana stated after some time, "There is so much going on. The Champion is turning into some dark creature, the Lords of Underland are all here at Marmoreal and my old friend the Hatter is being tortured not only by his madness but also by his helplessness. My people are scared sister. What do I do Racie? What do I do?"

Iraebeth sighed. Perhaps Mirana should have taken her study over the dominion of living things a bit more seriously then she had.

"Come now," she crooned gently, "It can't be all that bad."

Mirana's head shot up to look at her, wide eyed and worried, "It is sister, it is! We must prepare a ball for the new arrivals. Lord Time is here."

"Time? Here in Marmoreal?" Iracebeth asked, intrigued, "He was always rather kind to me."

Mirana smiled, "Well, let us hope he shall be just as kind to the Gryphon. I heard he and Alice speaking and he shall stand trial for saving the young child's life. Apparently, he was not supposed to interfere."

Iracebeth clutched the side of her chair angrily, a familiar sensation of nausea rolled through her, "It was his interference that cost Charlie his life in the first place. Alice attacked Stayne because her son's safely was at risk, the Gryphon's part of the agreement was to save the boy. "

"The boy is another issue," Mirana replied softly, "Do you know he can bring his drawings to life? That he simply wishes upon them and there they are?"

Iracebeth sighed and nodded. It had bee rather upsetting and neither she nor Mirana had to speak the words out loud to recognize that his gift was not normal, not even among the Underland folk. The magic to bring something to existence by simply willing it so, that was not something either woman had encountered in their own lifetime. In fact, Iracebeth could think of only one instance in which it had happened. She tried to put it from her mind, she would ask Alice to speak with her privately tomorrow.

"Is that sort of thing common among the Hightopps?" Iracebeth asked.

"Not that I know of." Mirana replied, "Mother never spoke of it and my court records never mention a oracle Hightopp. I had thought they were all trade persons."

Iracbeth scoffed, "Well it seems as if they might not be continuing in that trend."

As the words left her mouth Mirana shot her a dark look and Iracebeth did her best to seem contrite. The death of the Hightopp's was not something she liked to think about, it was one of the many atrocities her own guilt would pay for in the end. The fact she had single handedly destroyed Underland's most prosperous clan was not something to be proud of. She was also well aware that after that no new children had been born. She was more then certain of it, especially considering her own lack of conception. She and her King had wanted to conceive (although she suspected he did so more from a position of fear then of lust) and had not be successful. She had heard rumours her own husband had father bastard children in the past but no amount of investigation had turned anything up. Then again, Stayne had been the royal inquisitor at the time and now she was loathed to believe anything he had told her. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach and barely managed to transmit the message to Mirana before throwing up in a wastebasket.

"Sister, are you ill?" the White Queen asked delicately, her eyes creased with worry.

"I am not sure," Iracebeth said after a few moments to collect herself, "Lately it's been happening at random. I don't think its illness."

"Perhaps you need the doctor." Mirana replied, "I shall send for him in the morning."

"Hardly," Iracebeth replied tiredly, "I need a new life. A new world."

Mirana smiled, taking her sister's hand in her own. They were exactly the same size.

* * *

Sorry this is shorter then usual but it's slowly coming along. Hopefully I will post again in the next few day. Editing takes so much time and even then I miss stuff!


	5. The Fifth one

_A/N: Well I'm back again. Sorry for the long haitus but I have about five more chapters done. For those who are still interested please review to let me know you're still out there and I will post as efficiently as possible. _

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The Fifth

"Tarrant could you please take Charlie to my rooms? I will meet you there as soon as I am finished here." Alice stated seriously, her eyes never once left Time.

He was still wrapped in Gryphon's embrace and he fixed her with a playful look that clearly stated he was investing no effort into this situation. Any seriousness expressed here was her doing, not his. He turned his attention back to his brother while she turned hers to her clinging son. Charlie's eyes were downcast in the manner he adopted when he knew he had done something wrong and she was reminded of the time when he was four and he had painted their white cat black with ink because he had tired of her lack of colour.

She neared Tarrant, watching as his eyes wavered between that orange and green. She had known how he felt. Seeing Charlie in the hands of a man who could destroy him with a thought was not the sort of vision to provide stability and comfort. She had even been touched enough to forgive him their argument (despite it being predominately her own fault). She had always known Tarrant cared for their child, and for the first time in her presence he had proven in. Reaching forward she placed a loving hand on his cheek. He was still much taller then she was but he leaned into her touch like a cat begging to be stroked. An indecent thought crossed her mind and she pulled it away softly. Looking intently at his face she took in the hard set of his brow, the thin line of his mouth and the tension in his stance. Time had Tarrant scared. She recalled he had had some dealings with time in the past and made note to speak to him about it later. As for now she was ready to face this, whatever it was, head on.

"Charlie, go with Tarrant," she stated.

In response her son held on tighter to her, tucking his little head under her chin and clinging for all he was worth. She sighed, he had never been good with other people. In fact the only other person she could recall him going to was her own mother and even then it was not always pleasant for them. Charlie was not good with strangers and to him Tarrant was a stranger, sadly she did not have the luxury of time. In this case Time was the problem.

"Charlie, you listen to your mother," she stated, taking on a stern tone that made Tarrant tense up. It was not cruel just non negotiable, and it worked like a charm.

Her son looked up at her, his golden eyes rimmed with tears as she passed him over to Tarrant's arms rather stiffly. Even for a seven year old he was small but he did not hold onto the Milliner. He tensed up as if he were uncertain. Tarrant looked just as uncomfortable.

_They'll have to get used to one another_ Alice thought to herself, _They're in this together._

"Alright, I will deal with this and then I will come see you right away." she said softly, trying to smile. It came out a grimace. "Please be good my love."

Her eyes fixed on Charlie and she neared them and placed a kiss on his face. He hugged her in return, showering her with baby kisses and crying softly into her shoulder. He was scared and it stabbed through her more painfully then any blade ever could. She thought for a moment before falling back on a long practiced ritual that had started with another Charles Kingsliegh. Pulling back she held his small head between her hands and smiled honestly.

"I love you more the there are seas in all the world." she whispered softly.

He grinned in response, tears forgotten in favor of a new game, "And stars in the entire sky?"

"Of course," Alice replied kissing his left cheek.

"And blades of grass in the park?" he continued.

"Definitely." she replied kissing the other cheek.

"And hair's on me head?" he giggled.

"And ideas in my head." she smiled back kissing between his eyes.

Her son significantly relaxed and calmed down she turned her attention to Tarrant. He was looking at her with such an odd expression she could not read it. Starring down at her interaction with Charlie as if it were the most interesting thing in all the world.

"Keep him safe." she whispered as she pressed a quick kiss to Tarrant's white cheek, "We'll speak later."

With a nod the Hatter turned on his heels, strolling out of the throne room quickly. All Alice could see was the light reflecting off his dark plum coloured coat and the golden eyes of her son peering over his shoulder. As soon as they were out of sight she whirled around on the brothers, both of whom were watching her. Gryphon, who had great practice reading her emotional highs and lows, moving quickly. Grasping her arms to the moment she was within reach and thereby thwarting her plan to pummel Time. The other man seemed to smile at her, as if he had never seen anything like her before.

"So you are Alice..." he stated as if it were so interesting he could not contain himself, "I must say, I do not remember you being so dark."

"Alice slayed the Jabberwocky," Gryphon said slowly, "After our brother went mad. I decided to have her take his place."

Time seemed to consider this and Alice watched the emotions play across his face. It came to her then that Time was not sane, not at all. And certainly not as orderly as everyone seemed to think. His brow furrowed then unfurrowed. Sadness appeared on his face, then happiness as if he were running through a marathon of memories and they were just exploding before her.

"Our brother is dead then?" Time asked after a pause, "I should have liked to have spoken with him at least one last time. To try and convince him to change..."

"We did speak with him Tempus," Gryphon answered tiredly, releasing Alice, "We spoke with him the day before he was to duel with Lady Alice here. We begged him to change his mind. He would not be swayed."

"Oh yes," Tempus replied tiredly, "I had forgotten."

Alice got the feeling he forgot a great many things. Her anger eased away as she watched the brassy haired man mutter to himself, as if he were lost in his own mind. A stab of affection for him took her by surprise, he reminded her so much of another man with a similar problem.

"Well then," Tempus replied after a moment, "That makes Lady Alice here my new sister in a manner of speaking. I should like that. I have never had a sister. Only brothers."

Gryphon smile at the statement and she was certain he knew her questions would fall like rain as soon as Tempus was settled. Tempus eyed them both, his silver eyes ever changing before he seemed to take on a seriously expression.

"The boy is the matter at hand then?" he questioned earning a look from both Gryphon and herself.

Her heart dropped and her anger rose. She would defend her son. The Gryphon edged closer to her.

"Well, in a roundabout way," his eyes fixed on them. "My brother and sister. You have made a right tangle of my lines. Time is a tapestry and the way you've both muddled it I am having trouble-telling front from back anymore. Anyhow we shall see if it can be mended. And you as well my brother. Tell me, what is that child exactly? For I have seen nothing like it in all my years."

Alice gaped, her mouth working aimlessly. What was Charlie? It seemed such an odd questions and she had no idea how to even pose it. However Gryphon stepped forward.

"I noticed him the moment he entered Outlands," Gryphon grinned, "He woke me from my slumber brother. And his mother here. Strange creatures. Full of life."

"And other things," Tempus continued, his eyes shifting back and forth "He is your child then my brother? His life force is imbued with yours."

Alice turned, "His father is Tarrant Hightopp. The Queen's Hatter."

Tempus turned his silver gaze to her and now it seemed colder then it had before, "I know the Hatter. I remember the Hatter, he tried to kill me once. That is not something someone ever forgets. However he may have created the child but that hardly counts for anything. Once the child died his biological bond with the little thing was severed because his biology itself was severed. Have you not noticed this yourself?"

Alice could not answer. None of it made sense. Her father dying had not made her love him any less. It was impossible.

"The boy is alive again and a new father has given him life." Tempus grinned, "The Hatter is not longer a part of him."

"You're wrong." Alice replied hotly, "Tarrant is just as much a part of Charlie as I am."

Tempus seemed to regard her for a moment before speaking carefully, "Where you and the boy go the Milliner cannot follow. You must understand that my sister, he is a mortal and even mortals in Underland will die eventually. The boy will not. He will grown and age and once he reaches adulthood he will stop growing and stay that way forever. If your power leaves him, if the golden light leaves his eyes he will cease to be but if it does stays he will live forever as Lord and King of Underland. It is the nature of things."

"What of Gryphon?" Alice snapped, pacing now with all this new information, "What will happen to him.?"

"As his strength returns he will regain power." Tempus answered flippantly, "it is nothing to worry about. However, in order for that to happen I must allow it so. After all, I am the judge of these events and I have not yet decided whether or not my remaining brother is worthy of that title."

Gryphon tensed at that, his demeanor going from confident to meek very quickly, "Tempus I had hoped we would dispose of the trail."

Time quirked an eyebrow, "Dispose of it? Hardly? No, it has to happen. Where is the Oraculum? I had heard it was in Marmoreal. I made it all those years ago so people would stop bothering about what should happen? The Oraculum can easily tell you what shall happen at the trial. If we find it then we no longer are obligated to have one. If it is written there I shall decide it has already been done, I shall execute or exonerate you and we shall all go about our business."

"You made it?" Alice asked.

"Well I helped, "He replied peevishly, she noticed he was blushing, "There was a mortal there at the time. Beautiful thing, with long fiery curls and a sweet temper. She was an artist and while I have infinite power I have no talent for things like that. She lent her hand."

Once glance at Gryphon told her it was best to just abandon that train of thought for another time. Instead she focused on other news.

"It's gone from Marmoreal," Alice replied carefully, "No one knows what happened to it."

She expected him to react much differently but he seemed to think on it for a moment calmly before shaking his head.

"Well then, we do have options," he stated, "We may hold the trial, I am not sure how it will end. Both Alice and I will preside and make the judgment for or against you. Of course it must be unanimous. If you were on the panel it might make the entire ordeal a measure easier but we can't have that. Really, brother this is a great inconvenience you have placed upon us!"

Alice noted that Gryphon seemed to grow even quieter at that, his dark eyes searching between herself and Time. Alice, for her part was shocked, Time was speaking so lucidly. He had seemed almost childlike until they had mentioned the trial and them totally serious. It made her wonder what he was actually like, was he as lucid as a sane person and simply slipped into madness or was he like Tarrant, was it uncontrollable. It hardly mattered as his words were more worthy of her attention then her analysis of his character.

"Wait, wait," she said, "If his power is going to come back on it's own then why are we having a trail at all? Couldn't we just wait and let Underland itself decide his fate?"

Tempus turned his head to her, looking at her intently.

"The child is alive when he should be dead." Tempus replied evenly, as if it were the most logical thing in the world, "Life in Underland is so fragile. The Red Queen's reign snuffed out so many of them. I felt every single one. I felt every single thread snap. Their time ripped from them by force through me. When a life is taken it must be shorn away, when life is given is must be justified. If we cannot justify the life of the boy it will be taken from him. IN order to do that we must kill my brother. It is fitting, the child didn't give himself life did he?"

Alice felt her heart grow cold.

"You'll kill him." she whispered.

Tempus looked at her sadly, "If that's what judgment falls to then he's already dead."

* * *

Tarrant moved swiftly, his path absolutely clear as he headed through the winding hallways of the White castle and hurried towards Alice's quarters. His mind reeled around within his skull, running in maddening little circles. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear the boy whimpering, holding onto his jacket with tight little hands. It was that alone they kept him grounded. The look in Alice's eyes had sent him to her rooms without hesitation but just his small interaction with Tempus had set him on edge.

The Hightopp's had always had a long association with the Underland Lord of Time. The White Kingdom of Marmoreal was the land of the White Lord, Crims followed the Dark Lord and the Witzend was known for being the realm of Time. And for as long as he had known it had been. He could recall the festivals for each season, family and friends dancing in the streets around maypoles, new winter hats tucked upon their heads. He could remember running upon Hightopp hill with his cousins trying to get back to the main street before Time would appear with his attendants and bless them. No one ever knew why Time favored their clan so highly but it was obvious he did and not a single one of the Hightopps would ever dissuade him of his affection. He seemed to take joy in their children especially and Tarrant had to admit it had always been a wonderful day for the young Hightopp's when Time would make his visit. On those days it would never be bedtime and the day itself would stop to celebrate with them. It would forever be dessert time and their table would be lavish with teas and cakes and creams of all sorts. He could even remember managing to position himself in front of Tempus a few times to listen to the endless stories the man had to tell. Now he was more worried about the glare the creature had been giving his son.

His son.

A sharp sensation ran through his entire body. The child in his arms was a bundle of contradictions, the most prominent being his protectiveness over a boy who he hardly knew. Charlie was shy around him, vulnerable and for a long time Tarrant had been telling himself that getting to know Charlie was for Alice's benefit. He loved Alice more then anything in this world or the next and the idea of losing her again was almost too painful to bear. He liked Charlie and wanted to know the boy but it seemed like they were far too different from one another to make a serious go of it. But then, when he had seen Time holding the boy, HIS BOY, and those old emotions had risen out of him. Violent and vicious and hot, sending the bad spells upon him and forcing his own sanity to scramble for purchase on the slippery plane of his mind.

"Frumious Slalackin Gollymagging Tomvious Scutter," Tarrant swore under his breath, whispering the words with as much venom as he could muster.

Things had been going so well. Well, not totally well. He had said a few choice words to Alice herself after the being caught in the workroom but all in all it had been going rather well. Then it had all gone to hell. He gave a little laugh at the rhyme in his head.

"What does that mean?" the small voice asked so unexpectedly that he actually tripped.

"What?" Tarrant replied suddenly, his eyes looking down to see a pair of wide golden ones staring at him with intense interest. It sounded odd but for a moment he had forgotten the child was even there.

"I know it's Outlandish," he stated carefully, "Miss Iracebeth taught me some Outlandish when we were living in the cottage and hiding from Mr. Stayne in the woods. I learned some words. I learned the names of the lands, there's Quest, and Crims and Marmoreal and Snud and Witzend."

Tarrant stared at the child in wonder, and he blurted out, "Witzend is where I hail from. Myself and Thackery and Chessur are all Witzend born."

Charlie seemed to take this into consideration for awhile before looking up at him again, "I'm London born, I think that's what Grandmother says, but I'm not really. My Mummy is for sure. Mr. Hightopp, are you going to take my Mummy away to Witzend?"

The words had faltered as he watched the boy stare him down. The words had been so delicate but his gaze was fierce and for a moment Tarrant wondered what everyone was talking about. This child looked nothing like him. The defiance in those eyes, the determination in his chin and his entire demeanor was not that of a Milliner (not even a mad one) it was that of a Champion. As much as they had the red hair and pale skin in common he was certain that Charlie had a great deal more of Alice in him then anyone else and there were certainly a lot of people 'in' the lad, more then the normal amount anyway. He took another moment to look at the boy before he kept walking

"You're very much your mother." he smiled at the child while not even contemplating the question. The child and Alice in Witzend? Preposterous, there was nothing left in Witzend but burning and screaming and the smell of flesh; the Jabberwock had seen to that. He had no family to offer them, no real home to give them. He was certain Alice would have been better to stay at home this time around had she been given the choice.

"I'm very much like my grandfather," Charlie stated as a matter of course, ignorant of Tarrant's thoughts "My Mummy's father. His name was Charles too. Mummy is like him. My grandmother said so."

"Your mother's mother then?" Tarrant let out sharper then he intended, "London as well. Proper, I'm sure, with corsets and stockings and politeness and how do you dos?"

Charlie seemed to take in the response before answering it, "Sometimes. Grandmother didn't like me I don't think."

Tarrant held his tongue even as the words were dying to escape from it. He was so close to Alice's quarters that he could be there in a few moments if he stepped up the pace and within seconds he did. His feet seemed over eager, his heart pounding in his chest and his mind reeling. Charlie was speaking with him. Charlie was confiding in him. He had never really been one to confide in his own father. He had been the youngest of a four children and the only boy. By the time he had been born all three of his elder sisters were married, out of their home and settled in Witzend with children and husbands and families. He had often stayed with them when his own father had grown far to mad to be around and he had grown up with their children and other cousins. Hightopp children were no rarity in Witzend back then, they ran rampant and it was expected that a mother and daughter might eventually have children that played together. The family trees were drawn in great detail in and effort to ensure those not too closely related were married but also as a matter of pride. His grandfather, Taliesin Hightopp had been very proud of the fact he and his wife (Tarrant's grandmother Eeleri) had produced no less then fifteen living children. All in trade.

Of course the Jabberwocky had come and put an end to all of that. Then the subsequent hunting of the Hightopps. He credited his own madness with protecting him. Being mad either made him useless as a target or much to dangerous to approach alone. When situations were far to difficult for him to handle he would retreat into his mind, disappearing in the darkness there and emerging house later with no memories of what had happened. He had been approaching that level of madness in the throne room when Charlie was being held by Tempus.

He was so lost in thought he hardly noticed the aforementioned boy was staring at him once again.

"Do you love my Mummy? He asked this time.

The questions were not helping his sanity. Tarrant rushed into the room in a hurrying, dropping Charlie onto Alice's bed before hurrying back and securing the door tightly. Then, and only then, did he turn to face the boy.

Charlie was sitting on the bed, his small legs dangling over the side. His bright hair was all around his face, the curls tight and knotted. Now, while examining the boy, Tarrant could see the dirt on his clothing and the smudges on his face.

"You're nearly frumious yourself," he sighed, shaking his head, "Your mother will be most displeased. She'll stop joining us for tea if we can't care for a wee burr like you."

He moved to the dresser he knew Alice used for her son intent on getting him some night clothes. The old ritual was calming and he was reminded of what his mother had once done for him.

"You know, it's rude not to answer a question when someone asks," Charlie muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and looking irritated.

Tarrant sighed, holding the clothing in his hands tightly as he turned his body on the spot to face the boy. He would have laughed at the picture of petulance he observed. Charlie was sitting with his arms crossed angrily over his chest, his golden eyes radiating displeasure and his red hair sticking in all directions. Tarrant was reminded of a long lost memory of his mother laughing at him for a similar pose, in his case he recalled he had not been allowed to go to school in the ocean and was put out about it.

"I love Alice," he stated to the boy, never wavering in a word, "Very much."

He grinned proudly, rather pleased at his very sane and coherent answer.

To his abject horror the boy began to cry. He had never really been around children before except when he was a child. His sister's children were grown up with him and he had moved to Marmoreal with his parents so had very little experience with young ones. Mirana had been something of a child but even there her countenance was so polished and her disposition so refined there were little to liken her to this situation. No, Tarrant was adrift here. The boy took in a breath and let out a painful sob. The Hatter was surprised to find his heard twinging with every movement. As if he were experiencing the pain with the child. Instinctively he moved forward, hands raised in caution and his alarm upon his face. Sitting down on the best next to the child his warped mind tried to divine a way to comfort the boy. He didn't need to as the little boy threw himself onto the Hatter's lap within a few seconds.

This made things slightly easier.

"Please don't take her away." he sobbed painfully, "Please."

The Hatter stared, startled at the little boy's desperation and his words. Take her away? The idea was preposterous. Where could he take Alice to? Alice was not a waistcoat or a pocket watch or an unfinished scone. She was not something one could take. He bit his lip, looking down at the small red haired, weeping creature on his lap and wondering what exactly he was supposed to say to make it stop.

"Come now, no need to be so um..." The Hatter searched for a word that just didn't exist.

The boy did not seem to need the word for in a few moments he fixed the milliner with that same intense stare. The one Alice would give when she herself was small and trying to figure something. He reached up and wiped at his eyes, taking in a deep shuddering breath then another as he seemed to search Tarrant's face. Tarrant felt his own cheeks warm and the tight sensation of nervousness settle in the pit of his stomach. Children were strange little things, especially this child. This child who was his and Alice's. It seemed odd and appropriate that he and Alice would be moving backwards instead of forward. Child first and then maybe a partnership, it seemed like something they would have done first. He hadn't the foggiest idea how to speak to the boy let alone comfort him.

"So you won't take her away?" Charlie sniffled.

"I wouldn't dream of stealing her if that's what you mean. It would be downright knavish," he replied, the last word spoken with extra venom, "Besides I hardly think Alice would allow herself to be stolen. When you were stolen she moved the worlds to get you back, I do not think you would do any less if I were to steal her."

Charlie shook his head slowly, "No, I would follow you if I could and I would find her. Mummy always told me that no matter where we were in the entire world she would find me. And she has been over the entire world. "

"Has she?" Tarrant asked, more interested now, "In Aboveworld I suppose there are a great many places to explore."

"Oh yes!" Charlie answered happily, excitement causing his eyes to brighten, "We have been to the Orient and the Americas. I was born in India not London but Grandmother doesn't tell people that! When I was little I grew up there. It was much warmer. After that we went to South Africa and then up to the Greece. And we lived on a ship for a long time. But when I was old enough to go to school Mummy decided we should live with Grandmother in London so I could attend proper boys school."

Charlie grimaced at his own statement, "I hated it there. The older boys were mean and they made fun of my hair and my eyes and they said that I had no father because my mother was...well, the called Mummy bad names. Sometimes I would get so angry that I would sort of fall asleep while I was awake and when I woke up I think I hurt the other boys."

Tarrant felt his tension tighten. He knew what it felt like, the anger bubbling just below. He knew the pain and confusion of it and what it was to loose his mind and then find himself lost again. He felt guilty for it, perhaps it was something he had passed along. Perhaps madness could be passed on. The boy did not seem to notice his discomfort. Instead he had climbed into his lap, totally ignorant to the tension the other man was emitting.

"So Mummy told me that I had to pretend Mr. Hamish was my father so I didn't have to leave her." he explained as if this was the purpose of the entire story, "So I was going to. Pretend I mean. Mr. Hamish is not fun and he looks like he always is smelling something bad but since Mummy asked and said I would be sent away otherwise so I had too."

This confused Tarrant.

"Away?" he asked, "Who would send you away?"

Charlie shrugged, "I don't know. The men. The headmaster. Uncle Hector and grandmother said that my Mum was turning me into a baby. They said that having a father would teacher me to be a man."

At this Charlie fixed Tarrant with a cold glare.

"The only man who wanted to be my father was Mr. Stayne and if he's a man then I don't want to be one." Charlie ground out darkly, "I saw what he did to Miss Iracebeth. I remember what he did to me and what he was going to do to my Mummy."

"Stayne is no man." Tarrant snapped back, the baroque accent spicing every word as he caught the child's gaze, "He's a knave and a monster and I swear to you my boy if I ever see him near you again, if he even thinks of touching you or your mother, I'll send him to the next life without a second thought."

Charlie's eyes went comically wide as the words were formed and he seemed to meet him.

"Your eyes are orange instead of green," the little boy whispered softly.

Tarrant closed them, forcefully pushing his mind back into its proper place. Fifteen minutes with the child and he was already frightening the life out of him. Mindful of the tenuous relationship with the boy he took a few deep breaths before opening his eyes again and taking in Charlie, ready to reassure the terrified child. However, what he saw when he opened his eyes shocked him. Charlie was staring at him, not with pity or fear or any of the other emotions people usually gave him when his mind slipped away, but with the closest thing to understanding Tarrant had seen in years. He didn't say a word as Charlie turned in his lap, placing his small hands on the Hatter's shoulders and using them to pull himself up. Soon the boy's small feet were balancing on his thighs, the child's hands on his shoulders and their faces level with one another.

"You're eyes are like mine used to be." the boy said shyly, "Did I get them from you? Is that why my eyes turned gold? Will they go back? I miss the way they used to be."

Tarrant didn't answer him, he didn't think he could even if he wanted to. Instead he just shook his head and let the little boy talk, to afraid to speak himself lest he realize this might all be a dream.

* * *

Alice didn't go directly to her quarters. She couldn't. Tempus' words echoed through her head on a never ending loop. Charlie could die, Charlie could die. The idea of it hadn't settled and her mind refused to allow it to. She knew she would never let it happen, no matter who said he should, no matter if he was supposed to be alive or not, her son would not go down without a fight. She raged, the darkness in her barely kept in check as she thought of her son, of her helpless boy being torn away from her once again. She wouldn't let it happen, she knew she couldn't.

She moved through one of the halls, inhabitants of the White Castle jumping out of her path as she stormed her way through the labyrinth, her eyes growing darker by the moment. In the distance she could hear the thunder rocking the night. She could smell the lightening in the air and she called it to her, her dangerous mood enhanced by its presence and it's severity enhanced by her mood. Her gaze glanced down to her arms, noting the smoke was rolling off of her skin in inky wisps'; her skin had taken on the translucent tone that seemed to echo her pain. Shaking her head Alice continued down the hallway, twisting and turner through the halls faster and faster, deeper and deeper into the castle until she could smell the mildew and wetness of the castles dungeons and sewers. She stopped moving, through one of the narrow corridors and threw her back against the wall, letting the back of her head hit painfully with the white marble.

Tempus was going to hold judgment, he was going to hold judgment over her friend and mentor and her son. Deciding if they would live or die. It was horrible and painful and terrifying all at once. Never in her life had she recalled being more scared then she was when Time had stated those words.

When Lowell had attacked her and she thought she was going to die she had been scared but accepting, she knew life was going to happen (or not happen as it were) and there was nothing she could do to change that. When Stayne had kidnapped Charlie she had been scared and despondent but the anger and determination to find a way to save her son had fuelled her. But the feeling she had gotten when Tempus had spoken was the same one that she had when she had seen her son lying upon the rocks, his life spilled out before her. The panic and pain and tension spurned her forward and while she had wanted nothing more then to wrap her hands around Tempus' narrow throat and throttle the life out of him. She slipped down the side of the wall, landing roughing on her backside sobbing all the while.

It was so hard to keep the anger caged inside herself. Madness throwing itself against her feeble barriers time and time again until the cement walls of her mind became nothing more then pebbles and dust. She let out a feral scream, tearing at her clothing, her hair the walls around her, gaining little purchase. Desperation felt hot and heady and she fell to her side, curling up and tucking her knees to her chest, trying to contain herself.

She had to do something. She had to keep him safe. Without him there was nothing, nothing at all. Her mind roved as fast as it could, dismissing ideas and embracing others at a rapid pace. She would need something absolute, she would need to find a place where Charlie could be safe, where she could secure him and keep him tucked away. It was ironic that she was one of the three most powerful creatures in Underland and she was at the mercy of one of the other two. Then again he was a Lord of Underland, an undeniable power here and he held ultimate control, especially when the population here was so stunted to begin with. Ever since Horunvendush day. Her eyes widened. Perhaps that was the problem. It was impossible to hide Charlie because in Underland were far too few places to hide. However her world was larger, vast even with millions and millions of people. She gaped. It was so simple. Tempus was a Lord of Underland. In the world above he had no real control. She felt a part of her mind crack apart and her heart break as she realized what she would have to do.


	6. The Sixth one

A/N: Hey everyone, sorry I have been so tardy posting. I have been working on art rather then writing but don't worry I am trying to get a few more chapters posted before Sept. Thanks to those who are full of awesome stick with it ness.

The Sixth

"I would have a word with you!" Gryphon raged as soon as Alice had left the throne room.

Tempus turned to look at him, a guileless innocence in his silver eyes. However, as the elder brother Gryphon knew better then to trust him. He and Jabberwocky had been the older ones, born before Tempus and nearly coming into their own awareness when he had been created. In that time he had been so young and new that they both were delighted with him and spent time training him up, teaching him how to use his abilities and his powers. Gryphon himself had taught him the techniques of scurrying, seeing through time and then stopping and starting it. His own gift (the ability to remember the past with crystal clarity) had always been useful for retrospective purposes and he had taught his little brother how to remedy those mistakes. Of course Jabberwocky had been around as well and from him all Tempus' bad habits had sprung forth. Of course the boy was unstable, he always had been. Time was much the same and Tempus (for better or worse) was the living embodiment of time in Underland. For a space they had all been at peace, he at Marmoreal, Jabberwocky at Crims and Tempus in Witzend. They were not confined to those lands, not by any means, but they did feel their own sense of belonging there. The White crown had always been rather close to him, the Queens of Marmoreal were his devoted priestesses and followers. Jabberwocky had always been enticed with the vicious and slurvish land of Crims. While his interference with the Red Queen was crossing a line none of the Lords of Underland were allowed to cross he had, for years, claimed kinship with those people and their primal ways. Then there was Witzend and the Hightopps. While not royalty they were as close to owning the land as any people could come. They bred quickly and fruitfully, populating and expanding in a way none of the other peoples of this world had before or after. And they embraced Tempus into their fold, welcoming him not only as their Lord but as one of their own. Gryphon knew his brother loved the Hightopps dearly and held fast to a secretive and deeply entrenched relationship with them. Tempus had gifted them with long lives, children and anything else that was in his power to give; their deaths had left a part of his soul and mind shattered beyond repair.

"I would not have one with you brother, "he replied sharply, "You know the laws and the laws must be upheld. No matter how stupid they seem to us. I do recall you telling me that once."

Gryphon sighed at the darkness in his brother's gaze. The dread in his stomach became poignant; he knew where this was going.

"Tempus it as a long time ago..." Gryphon began gently.

Time whirled around, eyes twisting and changing from silver to angry red to orange and a myriad of other colours in seconds.

"IT WAS NOT LONG AGO!" he screamed viciously, "NOTHING IS LONG AGO FOR ME!"

Confronted with the untapped fount of rage the White Lord back away from his advancing sibling. For his part Time didn't seem to care.

"You and your twin," he snapped, "Think you're so wonderful, think you're so smart. More then willing to dole out punishment to me for interfering with mortals. For being close to them, for LOVING them and then when your twin goes and kills them? Nothing. Not a stitch of action taken against him. My people Gryphon. Not as those you had vanguarded Marmoreal not the monsters of Crims but my own people!"

"We could do nothing Tempus!" he replied desperately, "I was powerless against him. Jabberwocky is my twin, to kill him would have ended us both!"

"But now he is ended and so shall you be soon enough!" he replied angrily.

There was silence for a moment as Gryphon looked at his brother. Tempus was a man in looks, but his abilities to comprehend were vastly inferior. Time had only been borne when those who needed it had been created. In terms of age he was the youngest of the Lords of Underland and the only kin the White Lord had left. He idly toyed with the idea of calling forth the others, the Lord and Lady that slept, those who were older then he and Tempus and Jabberwocky had been but dismissed the idea immediately. The situation was nowhere near dire enough and while Tempus was prone to melodrama he might, in time, see reason. His brother looked miserable, tears spilling from silvery eyes. His shoulders hunched painfully and his body tired. His entire form screamed defeat.

"Why do you hate me so brother?" Gryphon ventured gently, "And why do you hate the Hatter when he is the last of those people you so loved once upon a time?"

It was as if the question was ice water on hot steel. The eyes shot up and pinned his own with a withering glare.

"You will not speak to me of Tarrant the Milliner." Tempus snarled, "He made his allegiance clear on the Horunvendush day and again at his Mad tea party where I questioned his actions. He is NOT loyal to my people. He is loyal to the White crown and to you my brother. He is not worthy of the fertility I gifted that clan with nor the child it has produced. And now he is not the last. Charlie is. The boy is also your son, that makes him my kin."

Gryphon gaped in startled amazement, " He is hardly my son but that is of little consequence if you've decided you want him. You would keep the boy? Take him from his natural parents?"

Tempus smile darkly, his lips curving in a nasty manner, "Of course I would. He is Hightopp and a Lord. The Hightopp's are mine and I am the last true Lord of Underland left."

"He is his mother's and father's" Gryphon replied angrily, "Alice is one of us now. She is the new Dark Lord, your equal and mine. She would never allow you to take the child and despite my own reservations she loves the Hatter and seems determined to make a life with him. She is powerful and will not relent to you Temps, nor would I in regards to the boy."

Tempus shrugged his shoulders flippantly, "Her desires are not my concern brother. I shall see you tomorrow, we will begin your trial then."

And with that Time disappeared.

* * *

Tarrant tried to not t get his hopes up, but it was hard. Especially now.

The child, the wee boy, was fast asleep. He held him close, leaning back against the headboard of Alice's bed as the small thing clutched it's little hands into his waistcoat and snuggled it's body closer to his own. He had taken off his own jacket to cover the sleeping child just before the boy dozed off. He knew it would be more prudent to simply tuck the child into it's own bed and then go in search of Alice but something inside him would not allow it. This was, perhaps, the closest to friends he and the boy would get and Tarrant wanted to take advantage of his own good fortune (and almost sanity) while he still could. He was aware that moments like this seemed to be rarer and rarer in Underland (Ever since Horunvendush day really) He closed his eyes at that and let out a long held in sigh. When he had first learned he had fathered a child his greatest fear was the madness. He knew he was mad and nothing could change that but to expose it to Alice was one thing, to expose it to his own child, a far greater crime. Alice was aware of it, she understood it and knew when to embrace it and when to fight it. He was a firm believer a child should not have to see such things. A child shook not have to witness its father going into an uncontrolled fit. So he had kept the boy at a distance but at the same time he could not deny his interest. Whether or not it exacerbated his madness was inconsequential, he needed (on some level) to be around this child. Living in the White Castle had allowed it and even as he had tried to build a relationship with Alice, Charlie worried him. The child was standoffish, distrustful and those golden eyes were a constant reminder that he had failed in his first act of fatherhood. Protect the child. This child was aware there were situations in which his parents could not defend him. This child had DIED. For a long time, whenever Tarrant had looked a at the boy, he had seen the dead little body in his arms. A reminder of that horrible day. And not Tempus was here to take retribution. His grip on Charlie tightened as his eyes slipped form green to orange. He would not allow it. No one would touch his family. Not again. Not ever.

The strange part was he had no real idea of his discord with the Underland Lord. He half remembered a conversation in which the Lord insinuated that the death of his family was his fault. He could barely recall his response but he did remember the trail and the attempted beheading that followed. Of course he escaped and Time held a grudge. He looked down. Being around the child was grounding. The sensation to do something destructive seemed to ease and his desire to protect the child replaced it. He smiled, here was a little Hightopp; The latest in their long proud line. The last hope he had to re establish his clan just laying here in his arms, and that notion alone gave him a warm feeling.

He wondered if Alice had actually been rather prudent in her hiding of the child. If their meeting had actually placed him in more danger then before. The idea of his boy living in a place with so little imagination, where most people would condemn him for being different from the norm caused a tightness in his chest and a throbbing in his head.

Gently he removed his ever present gloves from his hand, careful not to unsettle the young boy. He rarely took them off, they were a constant presence, but in this instance he felt the insatiable need to feel. Gently, he pressed his hands against the boy's back, letting the warmth of his small body warm his palms. Smiling he reached up and let his hands run through the hair that looked so like his own, marveling at the silken texture that was so unlike his and so like Alice's.

He was so wrapped up in his attention to the child he didn't hear the creature approaching until he was upon him. Eyes wide Tarrant turned to see Tempus standing at the side of the bed, his silvery eyes barely looking at the Hatter and instead focused on the bundle sleeping against his chest. Protectively, Tarrant wrapped his arms tightly around the child, lifting his knees upon on either side of the boy and enclosing himself like a human shield.

"Oh calm down Hatter," Tempus mused happily, looking down at him with amusement, "You and my brother are just the same, acting as if I had come to steal the child in the night."

Tarrant said nothing, his eyes shifting dangerously as his grip on the boy tightened. Within his arms he felt Charlie begin to stir. The Time Lord moved back a few steps, running his hands along the white wooden bed, touching the white silk hanging curtains contemplatively, before turning his attention back.

"You know there were those who used to ask for my favour and I always denied them. They could not understand why it was I would favour a clan of commoners and tradesmen over a royal line or a full kingdom." he mused, "I would always reply that the clan was more interesting, men and women working together. Teaching their children. Children are marvelous creatures, amazing really! And you Hightopps, you would have so many."

He seemed to be so lost in his memory that Tarrant turned his attention to the man, relaxing his grip slightly.

"I would go and they would swarm around," the man smiled softly, "They would confide in me their dreams and bring me tea and flowers and tell me things that normal men or women would never bother. They treated me as if I were a normal man. A part of their world and their family."

"Interesting," Tarrant mused out loud, his own nervousness seeping through, "Did you, perhaps, try offering the ladies and gentlemen tea, perhaps then they would be more welcoming to your advances."

Tempus turned to look before chuckling, "I had forgotten the milliner's tendency towards madness is exacerbated by our own. You wear it well Tarrant. Your father did not."

Tarrant felt his chest tighten and his arms and legs hold the boy securely. Tempus smiled at him, seating himself on the far corner of the large bed.

"You're father was a great milliner, I do recall he made the most interesting hats," Time mused.

"Hats are dresses for heads," snapped Tarrant angrily, "You've no taste for hats, I can tell. I can see it!"

He felt Charlie twist in his arms.

"Of course you can." the brass man replied, then the silver eyes narrowed, "Tell me Tarrant, why did you try to kill me all those years ago? "

"I don't recall." the Hatter answered nervously.

"Of course not," he answered smartly, "I believe you were speaking on your Alice and I mentioned your lovely mother. Stunning creature she was. Allyonia the dressmaker."

The Hatter's eyes narrowed sharply, his entire body winding itself tighter. He heard a small gasp but ignored it in favour of the sharp breath rushing from his lungs.

"She was such a beautiful lady," he continued on, "Stunning as a child and I was very kind to her. Women here are without equal. I knew such a woman once, just as stunning. Your sister's were quite the same as her. They had her eyes, those eyes the colour of the sea. How I loved to watch them grow. Bloom like flowers and have daughters of their own who would follow, a meadow of stunning women. And you let them die Tarrant."

"No," he whispered softly, then turned his eyes upward, "NO!"

"You knew your father was unstable," Tempus continued, "You know what happens to a Hatter after so many years at their trade."

"Hatters go Madder then mad can be." he whispered to himself, "You've no right to speak of them. NO RIGHT."

"As if you have rights," snarled Tempus back, "When the Jabberwocky was at your throat you saved the WHITE QUEEN, you gave no aid to your own sisters, to their children, just as you let your mother be butchered by your father. Just as you will butcher your own child in time."

"LIES LIES," Screamed the Hatter viciously, jumping to his feet, "YOU SLANDERING SLORVISH SHUCKAMING ASHRUCK..."

Time jumped back, laughing viciously as he kept back away. Tarrant was at him in a second, his own arms iron bands of anger, his eyes the colour of fire and his mouth moving rapidly spewing curses. Even as his tormentor disappeared into nothingness, fading away. He couldn't really see, he couldn't keep his mind straight and his grasped at the slipping threads of sanity in desperation. Viciously he let out a scream of frustration and anguish and that was the moment Alice arrived.

* * *

Alice felt the disturbance from the bowels of the castle, the calling of pain and anguish, of fear and terror, drawing her to it like a moth to a flame. Her own emotions were swept aside in the wave of negativity that was being emitted throughout the very bones of the castle and shuddered with the intense pleasure of it. The madness lifted her up, setting her entire body alight. Closing her eyes she tried to focus as Gryphon had told her, to accept the darkness for what it was and let it wash over her instead of consume her. The first few times her breath came out shuddering and stilted, one breath then two and then three. By three the tightness in her chest and mind has loosened enough to allow her to taste the madness rolling her way. It was an odd thing to describe but as she gained more ability to control what was inside her she found that most man made madness had its own taste, unique to the person producing it. Some people were more inclined to loose control then others and the different tastes signified what sort of control those people had. The one that was washing towards her was a mixture, two tastes (very similar) wrapped together, as if someone had poured two kinds of wine together to create a hybrid. Taking another deep breath she tried to focus in.

It was hard to pinpoint as the anger coming towards her was changing, morphing and growing like a living thing. She closed her eyes tighter, trying to decipher it. The first she could sense was maliciousness. This was sort of a high current for her, something she could feel but it was much different. She tilted her head as the fear reared forward. This was something she knew, something she was familiar with. It was Tarrant. She gasped, she had only ever whispered by him before but now his flavour was there and intense. His taste was wild, almost gamey and so different from what he normally was. She could sense it layering upon itself. This was his madness, the full brunt of it rather then the wisps she was usually witness to. The sheer power of it was immense, overwhelming and so strong it could have easily consumed her. However there was something else, something layered beneath it, tiny and insignificant in comparison but there.

Alice focused as hard as she could, chasing it even as it eluded her. It seemed that it wanted her as much as she did it for in a moment it rushed into her, washing over her like a breeze, filling her body with its essence. Terror, panic and pain called to her, not with the violence of Tarrant's emotion but with the desperate cry of a child. Alice could barley breath. Charlie.

She wasn't sure how she moved, only that she was rushing through the hallways faster then she ever had before. Her feet did not touch the ground, her will propelled her farther then any sort of physical force. She moved through the palace in a storm of air smoke and darkness that seemed so out of place upon the pure white scenery. With no warning she burst into her quarters, immediately taking form again in front of the enraged Hatter.

It was a terrifying sight. His eyes were orange red, wide and wild like a dangerous animal's. He was crouched low, his head jerking violently from side to side as he screamed in a profound rage and muttered to himself. There, tucked into his grasp was her son. Charlie looked terrified, his golden eyes wide with terror and his breath coming out in shallow pants either because Tarrant was holding him so tightly or out of fear. Alice did not think. She didn't need to. The idea of her son there, terrified and in need or her snapped something inside and without hesitation she rushed towards the mad, mad hatter.

There was no mercy in her, not for a moment and all her love for the man was eclipsed by her love for the boy. She threw him onto his back, forcing his arms with an inhuman strength. A power that erupted inside had her on him in and instant, pulling the child from his arms nearly effortlessly and pushing away from the mad man. She gathered her son in her arms in a wholly maternal way, protecting him and cloaking him in the darkness that was swirling all around her.

"Mummy," Charlie whimpered, clinging to her in terror.

"LET HIM BE!" screamed the Hatter, rushing towards her, "Give me ma boy!"

She held out one hand, throwing out a barrier between herself and the snarling Hatter, watching as he began to beat against the circular force field that encompassed them. Protecting them. She whirled around her son viciously, creating the black smoke that seemed to engulf her. With little to no concern for Tarrant she used the darkness to bowl him over, moving to the other side of the room where the balcony loomed behind her. She needed a quick escape should she find him completely unreasonable, and while she did love him Charlie's safety was her first concern. She twirled around once more, this time allowing the blackness to fall around her and reveal her in the center of it all. She could see the ink covered tendrils of her own hair in her eyes, wondering idly why the blackness should cloak her every time she used it. It was a curious thing .

"Hatter," she whispered as softly as she could, "It's me Hatter,..."

"Nah, nah," he sneered, pacing in front of her like a caged animal, "A false Alice if I ever saw one. A thing Time has set upon me to turn me mad. Little does he know I need not turn to find what's already there...

His brogue was thick in front of her, his demeanor was foreboding and he stopped moving just inches from her face, staring her down with his mad mercurial eyes. His madness, so close to her in proximity, sent her own senses flying and she gasped as he reached out with one hand to gently trace a finger down the side of her face, then her neck. The hand continued to trail and it fell still as it rested upon her breast, not gratuitously but almost as if he were trying to recall. Her own senses were screaming at the action, demanding more from her. Lust, anger, vengefulness and the eager desire to dominant courses through her veins like some intense drug, demanding her submission to her own wills and subsequently his submission to her.

"Hatter, Charlie is right over there," she whispered, her voice thickening with the desire and impulses coursing through her.

"Yer beautiful lass, almost as beautiful as a true Alice. My Alice. You've her beauty but not her muchness," he growled.

"My muchness is in tact, thank you very much Mr. Hightopp," She replied smartly, pressing forward and lowering her voice to a dark whisper as she reached up to cup his face with her own small hands "But should you try anything untoward in front of _our_ son with that hand I shall be obliged to remove it. Completely."

"Our son?" he whispered softly, his eyes turning away from her as if there were something he was just recalling, "Our son? Charlie?"

She could feel his control reasserting itself, regaining itself. Within a few seconds his dangerous eyes faded to their shimmering emerald, the orange receding to his irises where it belong. She looked at him through hooded lids, her own gaze confining to emotions that were now slipping from her. The things that were not her own washed away like raindrops off her skin. It was strange, sometimes she felt as if her own feelings were simply not a part of her, she was merely a looking glass, reflecting what those around felt until they stepped away and she was left empty. Shaking her head of such inconsequential thoughts she turned around to where her son was still sniffling. Looking at him intensely she dropped to her knees before him, noting that the blackness was bleeding from her hair once again.

"You all right my love?" she whispered softly.

Charlie looked up at her with a serious glare and wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

"Yes," he replied while stifling the sniffles, "I think so. I wasn't hurt, just scared."

The last part was nearly whispered and Alice felt her heart break at the look on his face. She opened her arms and allowed him to fill them happily. Cradling him she pressed kisses to the side of his face, whispering to him how brave he was and how proud she was of him. Nearly five minutes later they stopped embracing and she turned to find the Hatter still there. Her chest ached to see him. His hat was in his hands, held in front of him as if it could shield him from her wrath.

She fixed her gaze on the man before her, her son on her hip and a pose of dignity in her step. It seemed that they were destined to dance around one another forever, a never-ending waltz of give and take, madness and penance. Idly, Alice wondered if they would ever find peace. Of course the entire idea was moot, the benefits of Tarrant had always outweighed the pitfalls of loving a man who was absolutely mad, however the choice was no longer hers. Turning slightly she allowed their son to stare at him, knowing full well just what her son would do.

She could see him in her arms. From his place of security the fear was gone from his eyes and he was free to look at the man who would be his father with nothing but confidence. She could see the Hatter shift self consciously as he realized she was letting the boy take the lead. Charlie seemed to look him up and down, his intense gaze analyzing the scene before him and his mind carefully weighing his words.

" Are you feeling better? You gave us quite a scare." Charlie said.

Alice couldn't help it. The moment the adult words came out of her young son's mouth she couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up. It was most definitely inappropriate and she knew had her mother been there she would have been in store for a stern talking to but as it turned out it was just what was needed. A slow smile spread across Tarrant's face and she shot him a grin of her own, motioning to the bed so that they all might sit down and have a discussion on just what had happened to set him off.


	7. The Seventh One

**A/N: Hi everyone. I know it's been forever but I am posting a few new chapters in the next few days. Namely the reason I have been so tardy are the normal reasons, new job, getting married then another job change and just life in general. Plus someone posted a really hateful review on another story I'd written because I had taken down the sequel due to a profound loss of interest in the fandom. The person was so angry it just discouraged me form posting all together. I know I am pretty flippant about updating and posting and once I've lost interest it takes me awhile to get it back again. So I profoundly apologize to everyone for all of this and I hope you'll forgive me. Right now I am hoping to continue on in the story and I have at least five more chapters finished. So hopefully all will be well. Thanks to those who are still reading this. I heart you.**

The Seventh

Mirana approached the pacing Lord with caution. Her dark eyes had been watching him wear down the tiles of her throne room for the better part of an hour and as serene and peaceful as the White Queen was she did possess her own limits. She also found her own intimidation of the sometimes-arrogant White Lord was overridden by her honest desire to actually help him through his plight. Still, it had taken her nearly the entire time he had been pacing to gain enough nerve to confront him. Lord Gryphon was many things but friendly was not one of them, and from the sour look of his countenance neither was approachable. In fact, his entire time at Marmoreal had been spent in the gardens in isolation or in the company of Alice and Charlie. With the exception of those two he was wholly avoided; Mallymkun hated him, Thackery was scared of him, even Chess seemed intimidated by him. Then again they had all witnessed his power. They had all been there as he had changed forms, when he had initially appeared and when he breathed life back into the body of a dead little boy. These were all things Mirana had seen as godlike or at least far superior to her capabilities. She knew her alchemy well and her ability to heal was second to none, however she could not breathe life into the lifeless and watch them rise.

However the Gryphon did not look like a man who had the powers of life and death at his command, nor did he look like a timeless and ageless lord of Underland. At the moment he looked like a man tormented. He whispered as he paced back and forth, speaking to someone no one else could see in a language she could not recognize. He didn't even seem to notice her presence until she stepped into his pathway, forcing his attentions upon her. Immediately his head shot up, wide worried eyes meeting hers in an instant. She took a step back at his look intensified upon her before stealing her courage and standing her ground. Gryphon tilted his head, watching her with neither disdain nor admiration but rather confusion, as if he were completely unsure as to what she was doing before him. They stared at one another in silence for a short time before Mirana felt she should speak.

"Master Gryphon, I sense something is troubling you." she ventured as gently as she could.

The Gryphon looked at her without saying a word, as if he were waiting for her to finish a sentence. Seeing as she felt that sentence was finished she ventured another one to fill the silence.

"Some say that if you are troubled it is quite beneficial to tell someone about it," she tried again. Just as the first time he looked upon her as if he were waiting for her to explain her, as if the statement had been an observation rather then an offer. Their eyes met as he stared her down.

"I would be willing to listen," she clarified.

She nearly sighed with relief when she saw the light go on in his eyes, as if finally were finally aware of her intentions.

"Oh, is that so?" he replied unsurely, "Is that what mortals do? Well I suppose I could try it?"

Mirana grinned and motioned for him to follow her and he did. Gingerly they both took seats on the topmost square dais. He took a seat next to her and allowed his long white hair to frame his face. He seemed to fidget, reaching over the run his fingers the strands a few times before glancing at her with an almost timid gaze. Sitting there the burden he carried upon him hovered over him like a cloud. He looked less glittering then he once had, a distinct dullness seemed to be setting in around him, as if the glow his skin had once help was fading away. He seemed so distracted she almost forfeited the offer before he spoke.

"I am to tell you what is wrong with me? " he asked uncertainly, "And you will, in turn, tell me what to do?"

She frowned slightly, "I can give you some advice but not tell you what to do, that would not be right. You must make your own choices and stand by them."

He sighed, "I was worried you would say that. My own choices have been foolhardy as of late."

He bit his lip before meeting her gaze.

"My brother Time has come here, seeking answers for my crimes. Sharing my lifeforce with the child was against one of our oldest laws, one I punished Time for not all too long ago. We are not to interfere with the affairs of mortals. As much as we control life and death we are not to change the course of Fate," The Gryphon cringed at that word, "I suppose I should consider myself lucky that she isn't here. She would not be as understanding as he is being. I would not even get a trial."

"Who?" Mirana asked gently before her mind caught up with what he had said, "Wait, a trial? Did you say you must go on trial?"

Gryphon nodded solemnly, "Yes, I must. Giving Alice's son my life forced changed everything. I have always respected the laws of non interference. I have never been with mortals, or even laid with one before while both my brothers have. I purposely kept myself at a distance for it is not our place to interfere with your affairs. But the moment I shared my life force with eh child I feel pray to the punishment. A thousand years in this form. A thousand years without full access to my powers. I can control things, regulate things but I must live as mortals live, I must eat and sleep as they do. Bathe and interact as they do, I must be mortal. I have never been mortal before and I have never been awake for so long without placing myself into suspension. Only Time himself has done it, even my brother would give himself reprieve."

"But you're a god.." she whispered softly.

"I am not a god," he replied with indignation, "I was never a god. I am a guardian. Mortals bandy terms like god around but have little concept of what they mean. My parents were gods of Underland, horrible creatures with very little compassion for their children or their creations. They sleep in Underland still and I pray they do not wake. Still with my powers so weakened and my twin gone and Lady Alice still adjusting to her own abilities I fear Time shall use this opportunity to take revenge upon us all. Especially the Hatter, he is your friend is he not White Queen?"

Mirana looked at him seriously, "Tarrant Hightopp is one of my oldest and most loyal confidents and friends."

"Then you are in trouble as well," Gryphon replied, "Time is out for the Hightopp and any who had to do with the Jabbewock attack. His love for that family goes beyond any guardianship, their deaths were devastating to him. He buried them himself you know. All of them. And mourned them endlessly. He even tried to protect the milliner from getting involved in your sisterly war, however he could not stop the Hightopp's madness. He is quite mad himself you know and there is only room for one tiger in the jungle. Between you and I Time is a much more dangerous tiger, he has more experience with this sort of thing."

Mirana nodded, not really understanding what was being said but willing to try. For his part the Gryphon did not notice her distraction as he kept his eyes trained on the marble floor in front of him and his fingers continuously weaved through the ends of his hair.

"He will hold trial and if I cannot convince him that it would be better to grant me pardon and allow me to serve my mortal sentence he will take control of all of Underland." he stated seriously.

"Wait," Mirana gasped, "What of Alice? What of Charlie?"

Gryphon snorted, "He has two options. He can either train Alice or kill her. It would not be hard for him, her powers are still so raw that while she is able to control some of what she does she cannot control all of it. She will fall to him or to her own attempts of holding him off. Then, once the mother is no longer a threat, he will take the boy, kill the milliner and anyone else he wishes and raise the child to hate everything and everyone. It is horrific to think on this but it is the reality of the situation. He wasn't always like this you know, there was a time when my brother was gentle and kind. All that changed and now he thirsts for revenge."

Mirana felt the confusion settle in. Revenge seemed such a huge ordeal for giving the boy his life back, especially since it had been taken by a man using one of the Underland Lords powers. However the Gryphon did not seem to be too concerned with them rather he was worried of his brother's reaction to it.

"What does he want revenge for?" Mirana asked now, almost frightened at the prospects, "And what reason could he possibly have for hating Tarrant? Shouldn't be treasure him, he is the last of the Hightopps."

The Gryphon turned to her and smiled, "Ah, now there is a story you would like to hear."

* * *

Tempus wandered through the cherry blossom orchards, his eyes calmly surveying the land around him and the night sky. The petals were falling off the blossoms, giving the world a pinkish glow and making it look as if it were made of those same soft, delicate flowers. He plucked a full flower from a low hanging branch and pressed it to his face, taking in the scent and remembering. She had always like to have cherry blossoms among her workrooms.

He could recall days when she would make him go out into the dusk, hand in hand walking among their own planted cherry trees and whispering secrets and stories to one another. She would twirl and dance with the falling leaves, letting the skirts of her day dress fly up around them and he would smile and watch her, thinking that there was nothing in Underland or Above that was quite as lovely as she was. Cerys had always been able to make him smile; it had been her gift for she had always known what to say to soothe his ire and calm his temper. He crushed the bloom in his hand bitterly, his eyes burning with so many tears he had left despite the vast amount he had already shed. He would punish his brother for his lack of compassion and he would do so in kind, force him to live as a mortal. Force him to love as a mortal and then force him to watch that love fade away.

He stopped to lean against a tree, losing himself in it's perfume and closing his eyes trying to recall her. Red hair of course, always red hair. Her eyes had been a brilliant blue, sharp and stunning. Her face was heart shaped and tapered but filled out as she aged and grew. He grinned at the memory of it. He had met her when she was sixteen and had been overcome with her beauty and kindness. He had still been overcome with it when she was so old and feeble she could no longer walk. He had not minded carrying her places. He had not minded trading his place in her bed for a seat at her bedside when she could no longer obtain sleep. She still had the ability to make him smile and he had done everything in her power to grant her a long life. He had sat alongside her, watching their children grow, watching the world change and for a small tiny moment he was happy. Truly happy. Then death had come like a thief in the night and had stolen her from him. He screamed suddenly, unable to contain the ancient rage that bubbled through him.

He had called upon his kin then (for what else would one do in the face of such a loss)His brother had refused to give her back. His brother had told him life and death were natural and not things to be played at and that his beloved's death should be mourned and accepted. It was only natural. But not with Alice apparently. When it was Alice it was all right to forgo the laws of nature and Underland. Alice's child could be brought back when his own Cerys could not. Unbelievable. The rage inside him threatened to overcome, bubbling over and latching on in viciousness he could feel. He twisted with it, the memories of her death haunting his every step.

Immortality was merely a torturous punishment for him. He had separated himself as well as he could, watching as his descendants turned over and over in time, populating their world and making a name for themselves. As life progressed they soon lost all intimacy with him, forgetting his part on their existence and instead worshipping him as a god of sorts. Not that he minded. While it hurt to remember her it was comforting at time to see her face in so many of their descendants, her artistic abilities exaggerated and exemplified in so many areas it made his head spin.

He knew he should let it go and he had honestly thought he would. He had thought the pain would slip away as he forgot about her, as the ages passed and the world changed. But nothing in Underland ever truly changed and his life was long and his memory was longer. He never forgot anything, from the first moment she had approached him to the moment she had taken her last breath. For him it had all lasted less then the bat of an eye but in that instant she had changed everything. His essence had been changed. He cursed himself, screaming out into the darkness of the Underlandian night. Foolish, he damned himself, he had been so foolish. He could not forget her, everything about her refused to be forgotten: whether it was her laughter, her near madness or her beauty there were timeless. And she was timeless. He was merely Time.

He stormed towards the palace. Ceyrs was not coming back, nor could she. She had long ago passed through that veil of life and death that he could not go through himself. In fact, only Gryphon would have possessed the power to bring her back. Well, not just Gryphon but his brother was the only one he was brave enough to ask. No, now there was something new, someone new to teach and mold and love. The little boy would be a welcome diversion. He seemed sweet, intelligent and in possession of abilities that Tempus himself had never seen in a child before. The odd thing was the child had said his abilities were not related to the Gryphon's power, he had had the ability to bring pictures to life BEFORE his resurrection. It was an intriguing thought and Tempus was a curious creature by nature. Was it the boy's parentage? His mixed blood (children between Above and Under had existed before but not in many, many generations and even then they were rare) was it his heritage, perhaps a genetic throwback to older power? Whatever the reason he felt the need to find out.

He reached out and grabbed one of the cherry blossoms from the air, twisting it in his fingers delicately before pressing tightly, rubbing the petals together until he felt the wet mess squeeze from the now paste like remains and flicked it away. He'd discover the secrets of the child, he had all the time in the world.

* * *

Just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for reading. If you want to see what I've been doing instead of writing check out my deviant art account in my profile. Constructive Criticism is appreciated.

All the best


	8. The Eighth One

**A/N: So rushed through editing this (sorry for any mistakes). I didn't realize how long this was until I actually started going through it. Thanks so much for everyone's awesome support!**

* * *

The Eighth

They slept together. All three of them were tucked into the bed although only Charlie really slept. Alice sat awake, her eyes alert and dark, staring at the balcony in front of her. Her entire body was tensed for action ready for whatever threat would come into their room and attack their makeshift family. Near her Tarrant shifted, his arm wound around the boy and his voices (both internal and external) decidedly quiet. He was still in his slumber but she had little doubt that should the first inkling of threat arise he would be on his feet in and instant, the madness lashing out at whoever dared to threaten his young. The thought made her smile as she looked down at the man who had gifted her with her most beloved child. A pang of regret rang through her. This new ability, this new role she was meant to take up was destroying the one she wanted to play. She would have given anything to just lay beside Tarrant, to let him wrap his arms around her as they slept soundly, their son slumbering nearby, serene and safe. Of course it seemed like an impossible dream now. Something she wanted so badly but no one was willing to let her have. Most notably Tempus.

She didn't blame Tarrant for what had happened. In fact the only thing he was really guilty of was protecting Charlie and that was a crime she herself was infinity guilty of. However it was his reaction to Tempus that worried her. While the bout of badness had passed and Charlie fully believed the Hatter to be in fine spirits Alice felt she knew better. His madness was not decreasing; rather it was getting worse the closer she and Tempus were to the situation. Without them he seemed capable, more or less stable in his own way but she knew what she did to his mind so unwittingly. She knew that her abilities were not beneficial to him, or to anyone really. Even now her mind felt like it was balancing on and edge of something dark and desperate. If Alice was honest with herself she was tired. So, so tired. She cursed the day she had accepted this mantle and longed to release it.

She looked down at her son, gently tousling his hair as he slumbered. He had grown at least two inches since she had arrived in Wonderland. He was quickly becoming a young adult before her eyes. She knew it would only be a matter of time before she woke to discover her baby was gone forever and grown man was in his place. Even now she could see both Tarrant's and her own contributions to their child. She had always thought he looked so like the father but now, in his slumber she could see accents of her own father coming into his features. The strong jaw line was more squared then Tarrant's and the curl to her son's hair was not Tarrant's but rather her own twisted corkscrew curls. Even his looks sometimes would remind her of her father, grinning at her with some impossible idea on the tip of his tongue. Her son was becoming a man before her eyes. Soon enough he would tire of mother's stories and games and move on to greater things. Careers and dances and shooting parties and girls. Oh girls. How would she manage that? When her son would come to her, his green eyes shimmering, as he exclaimed to her he had met the perfect woman? The one he wished to bind himself to? The second part of his soul?

Of course she would never had denied him that but the idea that he was growing so quickly and soon would have no need for her left a hard sharp pain in her chest. All she had ever wanted was for him to grow up happily, at first it seemed like Wonderland could offer that but now? With Tempus at their heels, death in her heart and her son transforming into something she was frightened of? No, there was no way she could be certain Underland was safe, in fact the opposite was all too true. At least in London their greatest fear was being separated by space, here it was being separated by death. Here Charlie would grow old and die alone and unfulfilled and she would be forced to watch or worse Tempus would put him down like some mad dog. In her mind Alice knew she could not bear that. She would not sit back while a man claiming to be a god took her only child from her. She would tear the fabric of this magical world apart with her bare hands before she allowed it to happen.

Still, the idea of taking him back to London was a dangerous one. She felt much changed from Underland, as she was certain Charlie was as well. Things inside them were twisting and shifting and something told her soon enough they would never be able to go back. If she were planning on running with her son back through the looking glass it would have to be soon.

She sighed sadly, her eyes subtly seeking out the form of the pale man near her. Tarrant would be devastated. It would break him. She didn't know if she had it in her, to rip the boy from Tarrant's grasp with little more then wave goodbye. She hated doing it the first time when they were both unaware of his existence and now, with Charlie just warming up to the man, it might do more harm then good to her son's psychological state. Then again perhaps if she simply explained it as it was. Charlie was in danger and she could sense it, therefore they were running away to London with every intention of staying there for the rest of their natural lives. They must leave once more to live. She was forced to face the reality, after Charlie was grown her life would be barely anything without Tarrant.

Yes, she laughed bitterly to herself that would go over splendidly, for both of them.

She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry but none of it would come out. She kept it locked tightly away. Outside the wind seemed to be picking up, they skies churning and turning a dark and dismal grey and then blacker then a raven's wing, obscuring the moon. The rain would come soon. It would cry the tears she kept inside.

She looked at Tarrant once more, his eyes closed and his face tight with the seriousness of his dreams. She could tell his sleep with anything but restful and she was certain her presence had more then a little to do with that. She loved him. She had long ago been faced with that reality. When she had first left him and realized she could not get back and then nine months later when she had looked down and seen her tiny red haired son in her arms she could only admit that her a great deal of her fanatical devotion to her son was, in part, due to his resemblance to Tarrant. She had felt Fate had finally smiled upon her, given her one last thing to remember her lover from. Since then she had never doubted her affections for the milliner and while she had entertained the idea of marrying other men she had never thought to love any of them. It was impossible. She loved Tarrant wholly and it only grew in time. However, despite her fancy and madness, in many ways her mother had raised her a practical woman. Over the years she had learned that love, while precious, often was not enough to build a life upon. Love had not saved her father from his illness nor had it made her sister's husband into a decent man. Not that she would ever compare Tarrant and Lowell (one was a man the other a monster).

The second reality that threw her off guard and made her weary was that she was no longer HIS Alice. She had spent so many years yearning for Tarrant and when she had finally seen him again it was just so painfully apparent they had changed. Or rather she had. She was no longer the sweet, half mad, innocent girl she had once been. She was no longer the Almost Alice he had helped rebuild and restore. She was a mother, a woman who had seen the cruelty of men and the political games they played and had won those games. She was as vicious and underhanded as any of the men in the company and she knew how to manipulate the game. She knew how gain to a grounding in good investment proceedings and when she should cut her loses and run. In fact the only thing she really felt devoted to was Charlie. Her son was paramount to her life and she had lived so long with just his benefit in mind that there was no way she could break from the mindset. She knew there, in that moment with her family around her, her love for Tarrant was not enough to overshadow her maternal duty toward Charlie. It was not enough to sacrifice her son for her happiness with the boy's father, in the end Charlie needed to be cared for. If need be she would leave, destroy the looking glass and never turn back. Locking Tarrant on this side with Tempus and Gryphon and all the others. She bit her lip to hide the sob that accompanied that particular line of thinking. It was a little early to be planning her grand escape but then again one could not be too prepared.

Slipping from their bed Alice materialized a dressing gown around her body. Somewhat pleased that she was getting better at controlling her abilities she allowed herself a brief smile at her own success as she tiptoed across the bedroom, her feet barely touching the floor. She pulled back the billowing curtains of the far and eased onto the balcony. In the dead of the night not a soul was awake in the castle with the exception of Gryphon and Tempus. She counted on it as she stepped onto the wide railing and raised her arms to the growing storm. Her heart reached out as she drew the power of it to her, letting the raindrops kissed her through her clothing and soak her thoroughly. Her thoughts she called out to them, tentatively using the powers others claimed she possessed. The loud caw was almost immediate and their black wings nearly invisible on the sky as they landed next to her, perched on the railing. In succession they ruffled their feathers against the hair before staring at her with their inky eyes.

"My Lady," the first one cawed at her.

"My Lady," the second echoed.

Alice inclined her head to their presence as she bent low to them.

"I have a job for you to do," she smiled, "I must ask you to do so with the utmost secrecy. Is this possible?"

The two birds looked at one another with their glittering black eyes and then back at her with unwavering gazes.

"We serve our Lady," the first replied seriously.

"We serve our Lord," the other replied

'Good, then this is what you must do..." Alice whispered as she began to prepare while the storm raged all around her.

* * *

Charlie woke up that morning with the strangest sensation. He was certain today was not going to be a good day. He sometimes had feelings in his stomach, or in the back of his mind. He knew in London when the boys at school were going to be bad or when his Grandmother would be cross with him or when his Mummy wasn't feeling well but today was different. When he woke up he felt a churning in the very bottom of his heart and he bit down on his lip with fear. His eyes roved over the room. The whiteness of it had never bothered him before but now it hurt his eyes and he almost had to look away. He turned over on the large bed, surprised to find himself all alone. He had remembered Tarrant being there and the red haired Hatter being exceptionally nice to him that night. It made him smile.

He had promised not to take his mother away, a promise Charlie found to be both honourable and very considerate. The man had also taken his words seriously, listening to him carefully before answering. Not many adults gave him that sort of consideration. He had heard from people (mostly Miss Iracebeth and her sister) that he and Mr. Hightopp were very much alike. He had not believed if of course, Mr. Hightopp was a strange man. Granted everyone had told him eh was a strange boy but that was neither here nor there. But last night had seemed to shed some light on people's ideas. In loue of Mr. Stayne Charlie could say he had never been more pleased to hear of a man claiming to be his father. He was even slightly disappointed Mr. Hightopp was not here when he woke up. He should very much like to show the man his drawings. Also it would be nice to have someone to talk to about show of temper, because after last night he could very well see that if Mr. Hightopp was his father they also shared a similar temper.

He could recall his Mummy being there, her moving like a dark angel and grabbing him from Mr. Hightopp. He could remember how the red haired Hatter had been holding too tight and it felt as though he could no longer breathe. His mother and covered them in darkness and then calmed down the Hatter and they had all sat on the bed together and had a talk. He could recall falling asleep between them, wondering if his mother and Mr. Hightopp would become married and then she would be a wife not a mother. He also wondered about brothers and sisters. He would very much like one. Of course Mr. Hightopp had made that promise so he didn't need to worry about that. He wondered if he should ask Mr. Hightopp for a sister? He had asked his mother before and she had merely smiled at him and shook her head.

The only thing that worried him now was Tempus. He seemed to be upset with Mr. Hightopp. His father did not seem to like him any better. Charlie giggled to himself as he sat up in bed. Father? The word seemed so odd, even when he said it in his head. He had promised not to call another man father. Hadn't he said that? Hadn't he decided he and his mother were done with these 'fathers'? And now, after a kind work and a nice sleeping arrangement he was willing to make Mr. Hightopp a father? He chastised himself for being so fickle. He smiled and looked down at the white blankets carefully.

It would be strange to have a father but then again Mr. Hightopp had told him that he would protect them from Mr. Stayne. He had said it in a way that made Charlie believe it, it had not even seemed like Mr. Hightopp. He had seemed scarier, almost as scary as Mr. Stayne had been during those days he had spend with the man and that was a good thing in Charlie's opinion. That meant he could fight him. Someone could fight him. Charlie didn't want to tell his mother but he still had nightmares about his time at the cottage and then in the forests.

Easing out of bed he dropped to the floor and moved to his own room through the smaller set of doors off of his mother's room. Pushing the door open he slipped through. The room was not much different then his mother although it was smaller and didn't have a balcony. His room did have a bed, an armoire for his clothing (what little of it he had) a box for toys and a writing desk. Closing the door behind him carefully he moved to the writing desk as fast as he could.

He eased himself into the white padded chair. Sitting atop the surface of the desk it was a small onyx raven that his mother had given him when he was little, some parchment and his ink, a pen and a bag of toys his mother had brought from home. He pushed them all aside, looking under the desk for his sketchbooks. He hated drawing on loose plain parchment and he was sure Miss Mirana had placed the leather bound books somewhere thinking he would need it. Locating his book under the desk itself he uncapped the ink, dipped the pen into it and then brought it to paper.

Drawing always helped him feel better, it eased him and let his fanciful images (as his grandmother called them) escape his mind and roam free. But today was different. As surely as he felt the strange notion in his tummy he felt his hand move as without his own thoughts to guide it. He let the pen do the work, sitting at the desk watching as the picture seemed to appear before him in his head, making it so simply to just copy down. In fact it was on the paper and in his head at the same time, no one part of him knew what the other was doing until the picture took shape in front of him. Drawn with sure, steady lines. It was a strange feeling, like he had a teacher standing over him, telling him what to do without ever breathing a word of instruction. He even felt it, someone's hand on his back, weaving through his hair affectionately. A strange phantom figure whispering words of encouragement and affection. It all felt like it would in a dream and he ignored his own sense of worry in favor of concentration upon the image before him.

Lines became more lines and pages were turned as he continued to draw. He had never felt like this before but it was like there was something bubbling inside him, begging to be told. After the fifth or sixth page turn he felt the urgency die away. His head felt foggy and his eyes watered painfully. Shaking his head to clear it he blinked a few times.

It was then quite a few strange realizations came into place. Charlie realized, while holding the pen in his hand, he hadn't had to place the pen in ink, not even once the entire time he was drawing. He also realized that he had covered his pages with pictures of people he didn't even know and they were good, REALLY GOOD. Like something he would see in the newspaper. And it was definitely more then six pages. In fact most of his book was filled with the pictures, the pages tattered and dog- eared as he had obviously rummaged through them.

Also, there were people knocking on his door. He turned to look at it, placing his head on his hands. He should go answer it, he knew it was rude not to, but he was suddenly so tired. And his hand hurt. Looking down he saw it was all red and puffy, like if he hit someone at school. It hurt to close into a fist too and just felt sore. Not to mention his head was still dizzy. So instead of answering he watched the door push forward as people on the other side tried to push their way in. He wondered why they didn't just open the door, it certainly sounded like a few of them were there and it was unlikely his mother or the White Queen did not have a key.

He turned his attention back to the drawings as the final edges of the urges were leaving him. He pressed his hands against the paper, focusing his energy and closing his eyes just like he did normally when he wanted to bring his drawings to life. He pressed as hard as he could, forcing his energy into the book and noting that the paper itself felt hot beneath his hands. If his mother had asked him why he did it he probably would not have had a reason other then the inside desire and need to do so. It was odd, all these strange needs. He wondered if this is what being grown up felt like and perhaps this itself was the reason grown-ups did so many strange things. He felt the tiredness that came with finishing and he opened his eyes to see what had appeared before him. Looking down at the paper all he could see was just that, paper. Nothing else at all. Disappointed he sighed and turned to look at the door again, too exhausted to get up at that moment.

After a few more minutes he jumped to his feet and headed towards the door, carefully he reached the knob and turned it, it wasn't even locked. As he eased open the door Gryphon was the first in. He pushed passed him quickly nearly knocking him over as he stumbled into the area.

"Where is he?" he asked angrily, "Where is he?"

Charlie watched as his mother and Queen Mirana were the next two in, quickly followed by Mr. Hightopp, Mally, Chess and nearly everyone in the castle. They seemed to pour into his room and were all running around like they were trying to find someone. It was certainly nice to see them all and he wondered if maybe he had missed breakfast and that was what the matter was. His mother was in front of him almost instantly, her eyes worried and her hands on his shoulders as she drew him near. He wondered why everyone seemed so upset. He could even see Miss Iracebeth outside the doorway, her eyes thick with worry, as the White Queen seemed to glide to where the Gryphon was standing. He watched as Miss Mirana whispered something to him, her face a mask of false happiness and he replied to her heatedly. She looked very worried.

His eyes drifted back to his mother's noting they were that strange all black they had been more and more often, he sighed as he saw them lined with glittering tears. His Mummy was the only person he knew who was pretty when she cried. Not that he liked it when it happened; no he hated it, despite seeing it so often.

"Are you alright?" she said worriedly, looking him over and over, her hands running up and down his arms as if he were cold and in need of warming up.

Charlie wondered why all the adults were being so odd as of late but he nodded his head, hugged her tightly and whispered comforting words into her ear as she had done for him as a baby. However all of the 'it's alrights' in the world seemed to do little for the situation. She seemed to break at his attempts, wrapping her arms around him tightly and lifting him up. He was actually rather surprised, as his mother had rarely carried him back in London. In Underland everyone carried him everywhere, as if he would not be able to walk otherwise. He sighed; he should really speak to them about that. He did enjoy being carried and cuddled but he was seven now, close to being a man, and he felt that perhaps all this carrying was coddling. He knew if he were in London his grandmother would certainly not stand for it, although he did enjoy snuggling down in her lap as she read to him. She had explained that cuddling with one's grandmother was quite a different thing then being ferried around like an infant. Still, the carrying him seemed to calm his mother's tears and for that he was grateful.

"I'm fine Mummy," he tried to put on his bravest face, "Why are you upset? What's the matter? Did I miss breakfast?"

She pulled back and looked at him through serious eyes (eyes that were her own thankfully), "Darling you've been here in this room since morning. It's dinnertime now. The doors were locked and no one could get in or out, not even Gryphon and I."

Charlie gaped. He had no idea it had been that long.

"What were you doing in here?" she asked gently, "Did you not hear us banging at the door?"

Immediately his eyes went to the sketchbook. He turned on his heel and rushed over to the writing desk, nearly toppling the ink onto the white desktop. His hands snatched at the small leather bound book, holding it close to his chest as he returned to his mother. Then, with careful hands he pressed the leather mass into hers.

He could see her face turn confused for a moment then, as she turned the page, a myriad of emotions played across her face. Wonder was the first to arrive, and then confusion followed immediately by something darker. Her eyes took on a hard tone, her mouth became a stern line and for a moment she looked exactly like his grandmother before she was about to scold him for leaving his shoes at the doorstep or not washing up for dinner. It seemed to deepen as seconds passed and he could tell by the paleness of her lips just what sort of punishment he would receive if he were still in London. His grandmother was wonderfully consistent. Two seconds, he had spilled ink on the nice carpets, that would be an early bedtime no doubt. Five seconds, he had rolled his eyes during one of her lectures or his teacher had sent a note home, that would be no dessert for the night. Seven seconds, he had talked back to her, that would be a swat on the backside for sure. Ten seconds, he had told her and story of a place he had never been too and things he had never seen, things that could only be from a dream. He was not to leave his room all day for anything and to write out lines about how lies were bad and evil. He felt his own heart drop. He had not done anything wrong really. He had been in his room all day. He was not the sort to loose time but there it was, all lost and gone. Stranger things had happened since he had gone with Mr. Stayne. Surely she could not be upset enough to punish him. Still, that learned fear lingered in his eyes and tentatively Charlie took in a shuddering breath.

It drew his mother's attention.

"Charlie, love, you don't remember drawing anything in this book?" she asked carefully.

He tried to recall but was a little surprised to find he had no idea what was in there. Even after he had opened the book on his own, looked inside it and everything, the thought was gone, erased as if it had never been there. After a moment he shook his head at her, eyes wide with fear now. He had never not remembered something. The closest he came was when he was in the hospital here and people had said he died. He didn't remember any of that but it had seemed more like he had fallen asleep and people were telling him what had happened while he was napping. Now he was supposed to be awake and the time and was terrified to discover there was a blank spot for most of today. He remembered slipping out of bed, sitting down at the desk with his pen and ink and then he soft whispers of voices in his ear. After that nothing. It was all gone, someone had taken it away. His mother's own fear and concern was heavy in the air, he could practically taste it.

The tears came almost instantly, accompanied by his next big shuddering breath. He was scared. Whatever had happened had happened so suddenly, without him even knowing, and it was frightening. The idea that someone could still his thoughts away scared him. Those were HIS ideas and now they were gone.

"Oh darling it's alright," his mother whispered gently, bending down and pulling him into her arms.

He clung to her. Aware that this was not how big boys acted but too scared to do anything about it. Underland was supposed to be better then London and he told her so. He whispered it to her ear as she lifted him into her arms. He wrapped his legs around her waist and pressed his ear so he could hear her heartbeat. The strong steady sound was always nice and when he had slept with her in her bed it was his favorite part, being bundled in against the cold and listening to that thumping sound.

"Attention please, seeing as Charlie is alright I would request a few moments with my son. He's a little shaken up I'm afraid." His mother announced in a strong clear voice.

His eyes were clenched shut but he could hear people leaving.

"I am going to post guards outside this door and there will be a full investigation I assure you," the white Queen stated as she walked by.

"Can I be of service?"

Charlie opened his eyes to see the worried green eyes of the Hatter looking at them in childlike wonder. His own golden eyes closed again as soon as the Hatter's gaze met his. He had no desire to think of Mr. Hightopp right now.

"No Hatter," his mother replied softly but kindly, "Please go, I will come see you directly after I speak with my son."

There was no reply but he was certain the man was gone. He could feel the presence leave. There was still one person in the room, one person he could sense and although the man said nothing Charlie knew he was coming closer. At that point he opened his eyes to find Gryphon standing very, very close to them.

In time spent with the white haired man Charlie had learned two things. One, Gryphon was very old and two he didn't really know how to talk to people when he wasn't telling them what to do. He was rude sometimes and said things that made people mad but it wasn't because he was a bad person, it was more because he didn't know what else to say to them. He had told Charlie he lived by himself for a long, long time and had not had many friends. Those he did have had died ages ago. Charlie himself could see this, he had trouble talking to young boys and girls when he had started school but that was because he had never been around any other children before. It was always he and his mum. He assumed Gryphon had the same problem, even if Mr. Time and Mr. Jabberwocky had been his brothers.

"It was Tempus," Gryphon stated seriously, "He was here."

"I know that," his mother replied, "I could feel it earlier when I tried to get into the room. That's why I came to get you."

He watched as Gryphon walked around them, looking more like a large cat then anything else. He had a cat in London when he was little; her name was Snowflake. She had run away when he was five. She used to bring him mice and pigeons from outside.

"He's already meddling. I spoke with Mirana, we are to hold the welcome ball as per usual but I do not trust him and I do not believe you should either." Gryphon stated.

"I hardly believe I should trust either of you at this point," his mother replied hotly, "You tricked me yourself into taking on this horrible mantle and now where has it gotten me? Where has it gotten us? I returned to Underland to retrieve my son Gryphon and now we are both in danger from a madman playing a political game I know nothing about."

"It doesn't matter how you feel about this," the white haired Lord replied just as angrily, "Your feelings about your place here are inconsequential. If we do not act against him, if we do not strike now and present a united front he will execute me, enslave you, and take Charlie. Not even to mention what he shall do to you precious Hatter."

Charlie felt his mother tense at those words. He tried not to think about them. If Mr. Time came to take him he would just say no. He would tell him that he would not be leaving his mother. The panic in his mind started to wind up and he tightened his grip on her. Her hand began to move in comforting circles on his back, just like it did when he had a nightmare.

"We should talk about this later," his mother snapped, "He's just a boy, he should not have to hear this."

"No," Gryphon replied, "He stays. This affects him as well because if I die he takes on my full power. He becomes the new white Lord and that is what Tempus is vying for. Unless I miss my mark completely he wishes to take the child, partner with you and take full control of Underland."

Again he felt his mother tense.

"Why would be possibly wish to do that?" she answered smartly, "What possible motives could he have?"

"If he wants a family so badly he should go out and get one." Charlie stated himself from his mother shoulder.

Lifting himself and turning he faced the Gryphon. The man's eyes were so worried and had the same colour as he now had. It was strange because when he first met Gryphon his eyes were black, now his mother's were black and Gryphon's were like his, a golden colour. Charlie found it odd. The man reached forward and touched his face. As he made contact Charlie felt warmth and a sense of well being flood through him. He let out a sigh as the panic and terror seemed to wash away. Everything felt so much better, like all the scared was silly.

"You are a perceptive little child. A trait I am sure you inherited from both your parents. He wants a family badly, one that can never die or disappear. He suffered the loss of his own a long, long time ago. Would you like to hear the story?" Gryphon asked, "It may help you both understand what we are facing.

"Yes please," Charlie, replied, looking at his mother for permission, "I think we should listen."

Her worried face looked down on him and she pursed her lips for a moment. He noticed they were cracked and probably hurt, like they got in the wintertime. She turned to Gryphon and nodded as well, moving to sit on his small bed. The tall man followed them calmly and as his mother sat on the edge of the bed Gryphon sat on the floor, his face even with his mother's knee. Charlie climbed off of her lap and eased himself onto the soft covers, laying on his belly so his face was closer to the older man's as he began to speak in a soothing, wise voice.

"Tempus was different from my brother and I. He was younger you see and while my brother and I could sleep for decades and forget ourselves he never did. He had to stay awake, stay close to mortals for their experiences are the measure of time and without them he would have no purpose, no meaning. Understand that it is hard to live like that, so close to mortals and not want to be a part of their world and as the years passed and he slowly learned what it meant for them to be mortal he realized he wanted what they had. The freedom that life and death bring. The right to grow old and to fall in love and feel things passionately. As I understand it he decided to leave the mortals, deeming it too painful to watch the cycle of their fleeting lives over and over but he had grown to care for them (especially those outside my brother and my influence) and he didn't want to leave them without a guide. So he commissioned to create a compendium, something that would tell the mortals the future and help them prepare for it." Gryphon said.

"The Oracculum," his mother whispered softly.

"What's that?" Charlie asked.

She looked at him and smiled, "It was here when I visited. It's a scroll you see, but instead of days and months it records everything that ever happened or will happen in Underland. It was very useful."

"Wow," Charlie whispered, "Can I see it?"

"It has been lost," Gryphon replied gently, "Or at least that's what those who live here in Marmoreal believe, but let me continue my young prince, I will explain it more later. Now where was I?"

"He was going to make them the scroll thing," Charlie said with a smile, pleased that he had remembered.

"Oh yes, of course," the man replied, "Well you see Tempus was rather kind hearted then and while he believed it to be a good idea he was well aware that he could not create it himself. He was no artist and had never been gifted as such, in fact the only thing he did have was the knowledge and the magic. He did realize that his making such a thing was not feasliable.A mortal guide to be used by mortals should be created by mortals. It is one of the first things we learn as Lords of this land. As a matter of fact I lent one of my talons to create the vorpal blade but I did not forge it myself. A weapon that will be wielded by a mortal should, for all intents and purposes, be mortal borne. Tempus knew this as well as any of us so he went in search of an artist who could create the Oraculum for him. He found one in Witzend. A stunning creature with brilliant orange hair and eyes the colour of a clear morning sky. I am not informed as to how they met, only that she would change my brother's life. She became his artist and at first he tried to keep her at a distance. However Tempus is not good with emotions and soon enough, while creating this object, he decided to try to live a mortal life with this woman. I am not accustomed to their life together, I was sleeping at the time and I now regret that for what happened is what has prompted all this to begin. He married her. He loved her and his new life was appeared as mortal as everyone else's in Witzend. He had a wife and children, lots of children. They were so many they populated all of Witzend and they were such happy and pleasant creatures, beloved by all and very cheerful. You see each of the Lords is gifted with certain qualities, your mother has some, I have some and Tempus does as well. Fertility was one of his and so they prospered and bloomed and soon they began to span across Underland. However there was one aspect of a moral life Tempus could not imitate. After a very long life his wife died her mortal death and passed into a realm Tempus could not follow. He begged me to bring her back, to make her like anew as I made you Charlie, but I couldn't. I knew I couldn't. She was not meant to live forever and she was of Underland. She had fulfilled her role and had no desire to continue it, she deserved her peace. He began to hate me, to stay with my brother more and more often. However, his seed was planted and despite his absence his children grew and grew. They intermarried becoming so like his wife that it was both an impulse and a punishment for him to see them."

"But if he had babies and lots of children why wasn't he happy?" Charlie asked curiously.

"I don't know love," his mother replied, "Sometimes older people get lonely, especially when they can't be with the one they love."

Charlie thought about the statement for a moment before turning to her, "Like you and my father right Mummy? I remember you said he couldn't be with us. Were you as sad and lonely as Mr. Time."

His mother's face seemed to crack for just a moment before she smiled and bent over to kiss him, "I might have been had I been forced to stay in London, never to see you again. That's why I came here my darling, I couldn't live without you."

Charlie nodded; he could understand that, he hadn't wanted to be without her either.

"Sorry Mr. Gryphon, please go on," he stated.

Gryphon smiled at him and nodded.

"So time passed and Tempus became more capable of dealing with seeing his people. It had been so long since his wife had died that no one could even remember that he had been their father. Still, they loved him like a Lord of Underland and celebrated with dancing and revelry every time he arrived at their hill. He would stay with them and guarantee them good crops and creativity and long lives. Their children delighted him and the odd thing was they all still carry traits passed down. It pleased him to no end to see his wife's face was present in children so long after she was gone. Of course he passed down his own traits as well," Gryphon sighed, "But then, during one such celebration, the Jabberwock attacked. I do not know what made my twin go mad as he did, I can only guess it was the power he possessed and the vow he had made to the red Queen. It is hard to deny darkness, more so then light or the passage of time and when he was ordered to kill the Hightopp clan he did it. Tempus was not there that day but when he discovered what had happened he demanded answers. Jabberwocky attacked him as well but he escaped and he came to see me apparently but I could not be woken. With nothing else to do he buried his descendants and went to care for the last of his children. The only living Hightopp."

"Tarrant?" his mother gasped softly, "He is related to Time."

Gryphon chuckled at them, "Of course he is. You think Time takes such an interest in everyone? However, I doubt that the milliner is aware of the connection. Remember the Hightopps no longer remembered that Time was their sire, only that he was their Lord and he favoured them. After all it was so long ago, probably a hundred generations passed, that he married his Hightopp wife and fathered those children. His traits are still passed down though. His changing eyes, his penchant for madness, the creativity, the fertility. Hightopps have an easier time producing children then any other peoples in Underland and they were aligned with the White Court and held the heart of Time. Doesn't it make sense that the Red Queen would target them?"

"But they were artisans," his mother replied, "Not fighters. They would do little in the event of a war between red and white."

"Your Hightopp seem a capable fighter to me, especially when his pup there is threatened," Gryphon replied smartly, "They are a passionate people (also one of Tempus' traits) and would fight for their loved ones. A group of artists can easily be turned into a militia and with the rate they produced children, they outnumbered the entire population of Crims just on their own. And that is just those who lived on Hightopp Hill, it does not include those Hightopps who married out of the clan or went to work in other kingdoms. Most of the clans of Outland can claim Hightopp as their origin. The Red Queen was wise she waited for the one celebration where all Hightopps would return to their Hill when she attacked. No one save your Tarrant escaped and those that did not die in the initial attack were wiped out later. Even one Hightopp couple could have easily repopulated in five generations and both the Red Queen and Jabberwocky were aware of it. "

'That's evil," Charlie whispered fearfully, looking at his mother.

She seemed worried as well.

"You need not fear," Gryphon smiled, running his hand along the back of the Charlie's head, "You're mother slayed the Jabberwock and she would protect you from any threats no doubt. Even Tempus."

His mother shifted beside him and he watched as thoughts played across her face before she spoke, "Why would he want to kill Tarrant then? I saw them arguing and I have no doubt that he hates him. If Tarrant is his descendant and his only chance for the Hightopps to return why would he be so cruel?"

"Tarrant chose to save the White Queen on Horenvendush day. When the Jabberwock attacked and the White Knight fell it was Tarrant who pulled the Queen to safety instead of defending his own people against the Red attack. Because of that Tempus despises the boy. Not that the boy didn't pay his own price for his decision. His descent into madness was rapid and painful. My brother tried to speak to him about it once but Tarrant was too far-gone. Madness is Tempus' curse and that of the Hightopp clan. Immortals and mortals were not meant to reproduce and while his gifts are great the creativity all of his descendants boast has a dark side, the loss of their minds. Of course being a milliner does help your Hatter's case anymore then it did for his father. His parents were both direct descendants of Tempus so I am sure the double dose of Immortal blood was a contributor as well. Really we should be impressed is actually as coherent as he can be."

The Gryphon gave a little laugh at the statement but Charlie could only bite on his lip. His father was mad, it sounded like everyone in that family was. His mother was half mad, she said so herself all the time, it made sense then that he would go mad someday. This worried him. Perhaps then his father was the only one who could help him with it. He tried to imagine what it might be like to never see his mother again and the pain in his chest made him clench. The Hatter had watched his entire family die. No one he had not wanted to be near

"But then why us?" she repeated confusedly, "Why take Charlie? Why not just marry another woman and start over again?"

Gryphon shook his head, "You misunderstand Alice. He loves his wife, he loves her still. He does not want to marry another mortal and go through that pain once more, not to mention making his children targets as the Hightopps were. Tempus, more then any of us, is slave to mortal emotions but it is coupled with the wisdom of his years. He knows know that a mortal family is beyond him. If my guess is correct he is trying to create an immortal one."

There as silence as Charlie starred forward. Gryphon didn't seem to notice the shock and it only took a moment for him to continue.

'If I am executed Charlie becomes my heir, all my power will rush into him. He will die again and be reborn into an immortal life, as you are doing so right now. Tempus plans on taking you, your immortal children and your living son, with these he shall create a new realm. He will do away with all of this and remake the world. My brother is gone mad but he is mad like a fox. Right now the only thing that stands in the way of his plan is myself, your displeasure. The mortal beings of Underland are merely pawns in his game. He can kill the mortals with merely a thought, he can have me executed for my role in your son's resurrection, and he believes if he forces control over your child you will obey him just to keep Charlie safe. That leaves Tarrant." The Gryphon sighed, "He will not kill a Hightopp, he could not bear it. But, if he forces your lover to kill himself then nothing is out of his grasp. You cannot allow that to happen. If Tempus takes control he will throw the balance off. No Lord of Underland should control the lives of those living in it, we are facilitators not dictators. He is too enamored with a mortal life. The balance will be destroyed and he will re create this place as his own playground."

Charlie felt his mother rise to her feet, pacing up and down the floor. He could see the darkness creeping into her hair again and her hands were clasped in front of her, fingers worrying over her knuckles. Her eyes were that dark scary black once more but now, hearing what was going to happen, Charlie no longer felt scared of her, he was more scared of Mr. Time.

"What do we do then?' his mother finally whispered, "What is there to do? I can't control these abilities and things are happening to Charlie. How can I protect Tarrant when I can barely get near him without making his condition worse?"

"It does not matter. Tempus is starting to train your son." The Gryphon spoke coolly, "I do not know why or how. From the looks of this book I would say he is trying to recreate the Oraculum."

His mother turned again, facing them, "Why would that matter? What good could it possibly do to create that now?"

The Gryphon looked at her with sad eyes, "It doesn't matter. What matters is the what he is doing right now. I need you both to be ready. The balance is the most important thing Alice, we must maintain it and if something does happen to me my power is Charlie's."

At that the man crawled closer to him. Charlie was surprised at just how he looked. His long white hair shone less and less each day. When they had first met he had looked like someone so special, like someone with a lot of power and now, he looked tired. As if the world had simply run him down into nothing.

"If something like this happens again son you must tell me." Gryphon whispered gently, "You are the inheritor of my abilities and my power. My life is in you, if I am to die all that I am, all that I have to give I will bestow to you. Tempus knows this, so it is important you stay away from him. Do you understand? You must not speak to him alone and if you even feel as if he is near I want you to find either your mother or myself? Is that clear?  
Charlie nodded his head carefully, not totally sure of everything that the man was saying but sensing the seriousness of it.

"Good, " the Gryphon smiled, "Now come we must prepare for the welcoming feast, Tempus must not suspect anything is amiss. Pay closer attention to him my lady and Charlie; remember what we've spoken about. You must be careful."

With that the Gryphon rose to his feet and left the room. Charlie sat perfectly still, afraid to even speak lest something horrible happen. His mother seemed shaken as well. Within a few moments she had gathered him into her lap again and held him close, kissing his head tenderly.

"Don't you worry love," she whispered gently, "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise. I will take care of everything and we will never have to worry about Tempus or Underland again. "

Charlie did not say a word even as she began to gather his clothing and prepare him for the dinner. There was too much to talk about and he was too afraid that if he started to cry over it the tears would never stop. As his mother dressed him all he could think about was poor Mr. Hightopp who had lost his family the first time and now might lose them again.


End file.
